And hitherto doth love on fortune tend: For who not needs, shall never lack a friend; But, orderly to end where I begun,- That our devices still are overthrown ; 420 Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own : light! Sport, and repose, lock from me, day, and night! An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope! Ham. If she should break it now,- -[To Oph. 430 P. King. 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile; My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile The tedious day with sleep. [Sleeps. P. Queen. Sleep rock thy brain : And never come mischance betwixt us twain ! [Exit. Ham. Madam, how like you this play? Queen. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. Ham. O, but she'll keep her word. King. Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in't? 440 Ham. No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest ; no offence i' the world. King. What do you call the play? Ham. The mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago is the duke's name; his wife, Baptista: you shall see anon; 'tis a knavish piece of work: But what of that? your majesty, and we that have free souls, it touches us not: Let the gall'd jade wince, our withers are unwrung.— Enter LUCIANUS. 450 This is one Lucianus, nephew to the duke. Oph. You are keen, my lord, you are keen. Ham. It would cost you a groaning, to take off my edge. Oph. Still better, and worse. Ham. So you mistake your husbands. Begin, murderer. begin. -Leave thy damnable faces, and 460 Come-The croaking raven doth bellow for revenge. Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing; Confederate season, else no creature seeing; Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected, With Hecat's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected, [Pours the poison into his ears. Ham. He poisons him i' the garden for his estate. His name's Gonzago: the story is extant, and written in very choice Italian: You shall see anon, how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife. Oph. The king rises. Ham. What! frighted with false fire! Queen. How fares my lord ? Pol. Give o'er the play. King. Give me some light :-away! All. Lights, lights, lights! 471 [Exeunt All but HAMLET, and HORATIO. Ham. Why, let the strucken deer go weep, For some must watch, whilst some must sleep; Thus runs the world away. 480 Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers (if the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me), with two Provencial roses on my rayed shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir? Hor. You might have rhym'd. Ham. O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand pound. Did'st perceive? Hor. Very well, my lord. Ham. Upon the talk of the poisoning, Hor. I did very well note him. Ham. Ah, ha!-Come, some musick; come, the recorders. For if the king like not the comedy, Why then, belike, he likes it not, perdy.- 500 Enter ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN. Come, some musick. 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 distemper'd. Ham. With drink, sir? Guil. No, my lord, with choler. Ham. Your wisdom should shew itself more richer, to signify this to the doctor; for, for me to put him to his purgation, would, perhaps, plunge him into more choler. 512 Guil. Good my lord, put your discourse into some 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 wholsome answer, I will do your mother's commandment: if not, your pardon, and my return, shall be the end of my business. Ham. Sir, I cannot. 523 Guil. What, my lord? Ham. Make you a wholsome answer; my wit's diseas'd: 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, 530 Ros. Then thus she says; your behaviour hath 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, 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, 549 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. Ham. Sir, I lack advancement. Res. How can that be, when you have the voice of the king himself for your succession in Denmark? |