On Mars his armour, forg'd for proof eterne,
With lefs remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
Now falls on Priam.-

Out, out, thou ftrumpet fortune! all you Gods,
In general fynod take her
away power:

Break all the fpokes and fellies from her wheel,
And bowl the round naye down the hill of heav'n,,
As low as to the fiends.

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 Hec.br. [Queen,1 Play. But who, oh! who, had feen the mobled 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,
Where late the diadem ftood; and for a robe
About her lank and all-o'er-teemed loins,.

A blanket in th' alarm of fear caught up :.
Who this had feen, with tongue in venom fteep'd,.
'Gainst fortune's ftate would treafon have pronounc'de:
But if the Gods themselves did fee her then,
When he faw Pyrrhus make malicious fport
In mincing with his fword her husband's limbs;.
The inftant burst of clamour that she made,
(Unless things mortal move them not at all)
Would have made milch the burning eyes of heav'n,
And paffion in the Gods.

Pl. 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 speak out the rest of this foon. Good my Lord, will you fee the players well bestow'd? Do ye hear, let them be well us'd; for they are the abstract, and brief chroniclers of the time. After your death, you were better have a bad epitaph, than their ill while you report liv'd. Pol. My Lord, I will use them according to their. defert,

H&m..

Ham. God's bodikins, man, much better. Ufe every man after his defert, and who fhall 'fcape whipping? use them after your own honour and dignity. The lefs they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty.

them in.

Pol. Come, Sirs.

Take

[Exit Polonius. Ham. Follow him, friends: we'll have 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 fpeech of fome dozen or fixteen lines,. which I would fet down, and infert in't? could ye not? Play. Ay, my Lord,

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 E'finoor,

Rof. Good my Lord..

Manet Hamlet.

am alone.

Ham. Ay, fo, God b'w'ye now I
Oh, what a rogue and peasant flave am I.!
Is it not monstrous that this player here,
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Could force his foul fo to his own conceit,
That, from her working, all his vifage warm'd
Tears in his eyes, distraction in his afpect,

[Exeunt.

A broken voice, and his whole function fuiting,.
With forms, to his conceit? and all for nothing?
For. Hecuba ?.

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,

That he should weep for her? what would he do,
Had he the motive and the cue for paffion,
That I have? he would drown the stage with tears,
And cleave the gen'ral ear with horrid fpeech,.
Make mad the guilty, and appall the free;
Confound the ignorant, and amaze, indeed,,
The very faculty of eyes and ears.

-Yet I,,

A dull and muddy-mettled rafcal, peak,
Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my caufe,

And

་

And can fay nothing.no, not for a King,
Upon whofe property and most dear life

A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward ?
Who calls me villain, breaks my pate a-cross,
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?
Tweaks me by th' nofe, gives me the lye i'th' throat,
As deep as to the lungs who does me this?
Yet I fhould take it for it cannot be,
But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall
To make oppreffion bitter; or, ere this,
I fhould have fatted all the region kites
With this flave's offal. Bloody, bawdy villain!
Remorfelefs, treacherous, letcherous, kindlefs villain!
Why, what an afs am I? this is most brave,
That I, the fon of a dear father murder'd,
Prompted to my revenge by heav'n and hell,
Muft, like a whore; unpack my heart with words,
And fall a curfing like a very drab

·(32)

A cullion,-fy upon't! foh!-about, my brain!
I've heard, that guilty creatures, at a play,
Have by the very cunning of the scene
Been ftruck fo to the foul, that presently
They have proclaim'd their malefactions.

For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ. I'll have thefe players
Play fomething like the murder of my father,
Before mine uncle. I'll obferve his looks ;
I'll tent him to the quick; if he but blench,

(32) And fall a curfing like a very drab

A ftallion.- -] But why a fallion? The two old folio's have it, a fcullion but that too is wrong. I am perfuaded, Shakespeare wrote as I have reform'd the text, a cullion, i. e. a ftupid, heartless, fainthearted, white-liver'd fellow; one good for nothing, but curfing and talking big. So, in King Lear;

I'll make a fop o'th' moonshine of you; you whorfon, cullionly, barbermonger, draw.

2 Henry VI.

Away, bafe cullions !~ -Suffolk, let 'em go.

The word is of Italian extraction, from coglione; which, in its metaphorical fignification, (as La Crufca defines it) dicefi ancor coglione per ingiuria in fenfo di balordo,- -is faid by way of reproach to a ftupid, god for nothing blockhead.

I know my courfe. This spirit, that I have feen,
May be the devil; and the devil hath power
T' affume a pleafing fhape; yea, and, perhaps,
Out of my weaknefs and my melancholy,
(As he is very potent with fuch fpirits)
Abufes me to damn me. I'll have grounds
More relative than this: The play's the thing,
Wherein I'll catch the confcience of the King. [Exit.

Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rofincrantz, Guildenftern, and Lords.

A

KING.

ND can you by no drift of conference

Get from him why he puts on this confufion,
Grating fo harfhly all his days of quiet,
With turbulent and dang'rous lunacy?

Rof. He does confess, he feels himself distracted;
But from what cause he will by no means fpeak.

Guil. 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 state.

Queen. Did he receive you well?

Rof. Moft like a gentleman.

Guil. But with much forcing of his difpofition..
Rof. Niggard of question, but of our demands
Moft free in his reply.

Queen. Did you affay him to any paítime?
Ref. Madam, it fo fell out, that certain players
We o'er-took on the way; of these we told him;
And there did feem in him a kind of joy

To

To hear of it: they are about the court;
And (as I think) they have already order
This night to play before him.

Po'. 'Tis most true:

And he befeech'd me to intreat your Majesties
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 purpofe into thefe delights.
R. We frall, my Lord.

Kin. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too;
For we have clofely fent for Hamlet hither,
That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
Affront Ophelia. Her father, and myself,
Will fo beftow ourfelves, that, feeing, unfeen,
We may of their encounter frankly judge;
And gather by him, as he is behaved,
If't be th' affliction of his love, or no,
That thus he fuffers for.

Queen. I fhall obey you:

And for my part, Ophelia, I do wish,

That your good beauties be the happy caufe

[Exeunt

Of Hamlet's wildnefs! So fhall I hope, your virtues
May bring him to his wonted way again

To both your honours.

Oph. Madam, I wish it may.

[Exit Queen.

Pol. Ophelia, walk you here.-Gracious, fo please ye,

We will beftow ourselves- Read on this book;
That fhew of fuch an exercise may colour

Your loneliness. We're oft to blame in this,

'Tis too much prov'd, that with devotion's visage, And pious action, we do fugar o'er

The devil himself.

King. Oh, 'tis too true.

How fmart a lafh that speech doth give my

confcience!

The harlot's cheek, beautied with plaistring art, s not more ugly to the thing that helps it,

[Afide.

Than