270 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; sleep. 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? recorders! 980 295 800 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. 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? 810 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 so 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 ever The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom; 400 Let me be cruel, not unnatural. I will speak daggers to her, but use none. 895 400 |