Guild. My Lord, I cannot.

Ham. I pray you.

Guild. Believe me, I cannot.

Ham. I do beseech you.

Guild. I know no touch of it, my Lord.

Ham. 'Tis as easie as lying; govern these Ventiges with your Finger and Thumb, give it Breath with your Mouth, and it will discourse most excellent Musick.

Look you, these are the stops.

Guild. But these cannot I command to any utterance of Harmony, I have not the Skill.

Ham. Why look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me; you would play upon me, you would feem to know my stops; you would pluck out the Heart of my Mystery, you would found me from my lowest Note, to the top of my Compass, and there is much Musick, excellent Voice, in this little Organ, yet cannot you make it. Why do you think, that I am easier to be plaid on than a Pipe ? Call me what Instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me. God bless you, Sir.

Enter Polonius.

Pol. My Lord, the Queen would speak with you, and presently.

Ham. Do you fee that Cloud, that's almost in shape like

a Camel ?

Pol. By th' Mass, and it's like a Camel indeed.

Ham. Methinks it is like a Wezel.

Pol. It is back'd like a Wezel.

Ham. Or like a Whale ?

Pol. Very like a Whale.

Ham. Then will I come to my Mother by and by;

They fool me to the top of my Bent.

I will come by and by.

Pol. I will fay fo.

[Exit.

Ham. By and by is easily faid. Leave me, friends: [Ext.

'Tis now the very witching time of Night,

When Church-yards yawn, and Hell it felf breaths out Contagion to this World. Now could I drink hot Blood,

And do such bitter Business as the Day

Would quake to look on. Soft, now to my Mother

Oh

Oh Heart, lose not thy Nature; let not ever
The Soul of Nero enter this firm Bosom;
Let me be cruel, not unnatural,

I will speak Daggers to her, but use none.
My Tongue and Soul in this be Hypocrites ;
How in my words somever she be shent,
To give them Seals, never my Soul consent.

Enter King, Roseneraus, and Guildenstern.
King. I like him not, nor stands it safe with us,
To let his Madness range. Therefore prepare you;
I your Commission will forthwith dispatch,
And he to England shall along with you,
The Terms of our Estate may not endure
Hazard so dangerous, as doth hourly grow
Out of his Lunacies.

Guild. We will our selves provide;
Most holy and religious Fear it is,
To keep those many Bodies safe, that live
And feed upon your Majesty.

Rof. The fingle and peculiar Life is bound
With all the Strength and Armour of the Mind,
To keep it felf from noyance; but much more,
That Spirit, upon whose Spirit depends and rests
The Lives of many; the cease of Majesty
Dies not alone, but like a Gulf doth draw
What's near it, with it, it is a massy Wheel
Fixt on the Summit of the highest Mount,
To whose huge Spoaks, ten thousand lesser things
Are mortiz'd and adjoin'd; which when it falls,
Each small annexment, petty consequence
Attends the boistrous Ruin. Never alone

Did the King sigh, but with a general groan.

King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy Voyage;

For we will Fetters put upon this Fear,

Which now goes too free-footed.

Both. We will haste us.

Enter Polonius.

[Exit.

[Exeant Gent.

Pol. My Lord, he's going to his Mother's Closet;

Behind the Arras I'll convey my felf

To hear the Process. I'll warrant she'll tax him home.

And as you faid, and wisely was it said,

'Tis meet that some more Audience than a Mother,
Since Nature makes them partial, should o'er-hear
The Speech of Vantage. Fare you well, my Liege,
I'll call upon you e'er you go to bed,

And tell you what I know.

[Exit.

King. Thanks, dear my Lord.

Oh my Offence is rank, it smells to Heav'n,
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't ;
A Brother's Murther. Pray I cannot,
Though Inclination be as sharp as Will :
My stronger Guilt defeats my strong Intent,
And like a Man to double Business bound,
I stand in pawse where I mall first begin,
And both neglect; what if this cursed Hand
Were thicker than it self with Brother's Blood,
Is there not Rain enough in the sweet Heav'ns
To wash it white as Snow? whereto serves Mercy
But to confront the visage of Offence?
And what's in Prayer, but this two-fold Force,
To be fore-stalled e'er we come to fall,
Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up,
My Fault is past. But oh, what Form of Prayer
Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul Murther,
That cannot be, fince I am still possest
Of those Effects for which I did the Murther,
My Crown, mine own Ambition, and my Queen.
May one be pardon'd, and retain th'offence ?
In the corrupted Currents of this World,
Offences gilded Hand may shove by Justice,
And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize it felf
Buys out the Law; but 'tis not so above,
There is no shuffling, there the Action lyes
In his true Nature, and we our selves compell'd
Even to the Teeth and Fore-head of our Faults,
To give in Evidence. What then? what rests ?
Try what Repentance can. What can it not ?
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?
Oh wretched State! oh Bosom, black as Death!
Oh limed Soul, that strugling to be free,
Art more irgag'd! Help Argels, make assay:

Bow

[The King kneels.

Bow stubborn Knees, and Heart with strings of Steel,
Be soft as finews of the new-born Babe,

All may be well.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying,

And now I'll do't and fo he goes to Heav'n,
And so am I reveng'd: that would be scann'd,
A Villain kills my Father, and for that

I his fole Son, do this same Villain send

To Heav'n-O this is Hire and Sallery, not Revenge.
He took my Father grossly, full of bread,
With all his Crimes broad blown, as fresh as May,
And how his Audit stands, who knows, save Heav'n:
But in our circumstance and course of Thought,
'Tis heavy with him. And am I then reveng'd,
To take him in the purging of his Soul,
When he is fit and season'd for his passage? No.
Up Sword, and know thou a more horrid time
When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage,
Or in th' incestuous pleasure of his Bed,
At gaming, swearing, or about some act
That has no relish of Salvation in't,

Then trip him, that his heels may kick at Heav'n,
And that his Soul may be as damn'd and black
As Hell, whereto it goes. My Mother stays,

This Phyfick but prolongs thy fickly days.

[Exit.

King. My words fly up, my thoughts remain below, ..

Words, without thoughts, never to Heav'n go.

[Exit.

SCENE II. The Queen's Apartment.
Enter Queen, and Polonius.

Pol. He will come straight; look you lay home to him,
Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with,
And that your Grace hath screen'd, and stood between
Much heat and him. I'll filence me e'en here;

Pray you be round with him.

Ham. within. Mother, Mother, Mother.

Queen. I'll warrant you, fear me not.

Withdraw, I hear him coming.

VOL. V.

[Polonius hides himself behind the Arras.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Now, Mother, what's the Matter?

Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy Father much offended.
Ham. Mother, you have my Father much offended.
Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.
Ham. Go, go, you question with an idle tongue.

Queen. Why how now, Hamlet?
Ham. What's the matter now?

Queen. Have you forgot me ?
Ham. No, by the Rood, not fo;

You are the Queen, your Husband's Brother's Wife,
But would you were not so. You are my Mother.

Queen. Nay, then I'll set those to you that can speak. Ham. Come, come, and fit you down, you shall not budge :

You go not 'till I set you up a Glass,

Where you may fee the inmost part of you?

Queen. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murther me?

Help, help, ho.

Pol. What ho, help, help, help.

Ham. How now, a Rat? dead for a Ducate, dead.

Pol. Oh I am flain.

Queen. Oh me, what haft thou done?

Ham. Nay I know not, is it the King?

[Behind the Arras.

[Kills Polonius.

Queen. Oh, what a rash and bloody deed is this!
Ham. A bloody deed, almost as bad, good Mother,

As kill a King, and marry with his Brother.
Queen. As kill'd a King?

Ham. Ay Lady, 'twas my word.
Thou wretched, rash, intruding Fool, farewel,
I took thee for thy Betters, take thy Fortune,
Thou find'st to be too bufie, is some danger.
Leave wringing of your hands, peace, fit you down,
And let me wring your heart, for so I shall
If it be made of penetrable stuff;

If damned Custom have not braz'd it so,
That it is proof and bulwark against Sense.

Queen. What have I done, that thou dar'st wag thy tongue

In noise so rude against me?

Ham. Such an Act,

That blurs the Grace and blush of Modesty,

Calls