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Queen. How fares my lord?
Pol. Give o'er the play. 285 King. Give me some light. Away! All. Lights, lights, lights!
[Exeunt all but Hamlet and Horatio. Ham. Why, let the stricken deer go weep,
The hart ungalled play;
Thus runs the world away. Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathersif the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with momwith two Provincial roses on my razed
shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, 276 sir?
Hor. Half a share.
For thou dost know, 0 Damon dear,
This realm dismantled was
A very, very-pajock.
for a thousand pound. Didst perceive? 286 Hor. Very well, my lord.
Ham. Upon the talk of the poisoning?
For if the king like not the comedy, 290
Why, then, belike, he likes it not, perdy. Come, some music!
Re-enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Guil. Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with
you. Ham. Sir, a whole history. Guil. The King, sir,Ham. Ay, sir, what of him? Guil. Is in his retirement marvellous distempered. Ham. With drink, sir? Guil. No, my lord, rather with choler.
300 Ham. Your wisdom should show itself more richer
to signify this to the doctor; for, for me to put him to his purgation would perhaps
plunge him into far more choler. Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some 305
frame and start not so wildly from my affair. Ham. I am tame, sir; pronounce. Guil. The Queen, your mother, in most great
affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you. Ham. You are welcome. Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of
the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer I will do your mother's commandment; if not, your pardon and my return shall be the end of my 315
business. Ham. Sir, I can not. Guil. What, my lord?
Ham. Make you a wholesome answer. My wit's 320 diseased. But, sir, such answer as I can
make, you shall command, or, rather, as you say, my mother. Therefore no more, but
to the matter. My mother, you say,– Ros. Then thus she says: your behaviour hath 326 struck her into amazement and admiration. Ham. O wonderful son, that can 80 astonish a
mother! But is there no sequel at the heels
of this mother's admiration? Impart. Ros. She desires to speak with you in her closet 330 ere you go to bed. Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our
mother. Have you any further trade with
us? Ros. My lord, you once did love me. 335 Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers. Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of
distemper? You do surely bar the door upon your own liberty if you deny your
griefs to your friend. 340 Ham. Sir, I lack advancement. Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice . of the King himself for your succession in
Denmark? Ham. Ay, sir, but “While the grass grows,”345 the proverb is something musty.
Re-enter Players with recorders. 0, the recorders! Let me see one.—To . withdraw with you:-why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would
drive me into a toil? Guil. O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my 850
love is too unmannerly. Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you
play upon this pipe? Guil. My lord, I can not. Ham. I pray you. .
355 Guil. Believe me, I can not. Ham. I do beseech you. Guil. I know no touch of it, my lord. Ham. It is as easy as lying. Govern these vent
ages with your fingers and thumb, give it 360 breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are
the stops. Guil. But these can not I command to any utter.
ance of harmony. I have not the skill. 365 Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing
you make of me! You would play upon me,
Enter Polonius. God bless yon, sir. Pol. My lord, the Queen would speak with you, 380 and presently. Ham. Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in
shape of a camel? Pol. By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed.
Ham. Methinks it is like a weasel. 385 Pol. It is backed like a weasel.
Ham. Or like a whale?
[Aside.] They fool me to the top of my 390 bent.--I will come by and by. Pol. I will say so.
[Exit. Ham. “By and by” is easily said. Leave me,
friends. [Exeunt all but Hamlet. 'Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn and hell itself
breathes 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. O heart, lose not thy nature! Let not
The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom; 400 Let me be cruel, not unnatural.
I will speak daggers to her, but use none.