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"limited.

Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus For the law of wit, and the liberty, these are the only men.

too light.

Ham. Oh, Jephtha, judge of Ifrael, what a treasure

hadft thou!

Pol. What a treasure had he, my Lord?

Ham. Why, one fuir daughter, and no more,

The which he loved paffing well.

Pol Still on my daughter.

my Lord, I have a

Ham. Am I not i'th'right, old Jephtha? Pol. If you call me Jephtha, daughter that I love paffing well.

Ham. Nay, that follows not.

Pol. What follows then, my Lord?

Ham. Why, as by lot, God wot--and then you know, it came to pass, as most like it was; the first row of the rubric will fhew you more. For look where my a bridgements come.

Enter four or five players.

Y'are welcome, maflers, welcome all, I am glad to fee thee well; welcome, good friends. Oh! old friend! thy face is valanc'd fince I saw thee laft: com'fl thou to beard me in Denmark? What! my young lady and miftrefs? berlady, your ladyfhip is nearer heaven than when I faw you laft, by the altitude of a chicppine. Pray God your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, be not crack'd within the ring Mafters, you are all welcome; we'll e'en to't like friendly faulconers, fly at any thing we fee; we'll have a fpeech ftreight. Come, give us a taste of your quality; come, a paffionate Speech.

1 Play. What fpeech, my good Lord?

Ham. I heard thee fpeak me a speech once; but it was never acted; or if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleas'd not the million, 'twas Caviar to the General; but it was (as I received it, and others, whofe judgment in fuch matters cried in the top of mine) an excellent play; well digefted in the fcenes, fet

*It is pans chansons in the first folio edition. The old ballads fng on bridges. and from thence called pors chansons, Hamlet is here repeating ends of old fongs. The rubric is equivalent; the titles of od ballads being written in red letters.

down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember
one faid, there was no falt in the lines, to make the mat-
ter favoury; or no matter in the phrafe, that might in-
dite the author of affectation; but called it an honelt
method. One speech in it chiefly lov'd; it was -
neas's tale to Dido; and thereabout of it especially,
where he speaks of Priam's flaughter. If it live in your
memory, begin at this line, let me fee, let me fee
The rugged Pyrrhus, like th' fiyrcanian beaft,--It is
not fo
-it begins with Pyrrhus.

The rugged Pyrrhus, he whofe fable arms,
Black as his purpose, did the night refemble
When he lay couched in the ominous horse;
Hath now his dread and black complection fear'd
With heraldry more difmal; head to foot,
Now is he total gules; horridly trick'd

With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, fons,
Bak'd and impafted with. the parching fires,
That lend a tyrannous and danned light
To nurthers vile.. Roasted in wrath and fire,
And thus o'er-fized with coagulate gore,
With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
Old grandfire Priam feeks.

Pol. 'Fore God, my Lord, well fpoken, with good accent, and good difcretion.

1 Play. Anon he finds him,
Striking, too fhort, at Greeks. His antique fword,
Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls.
Repugnant to command; unequal match'd,
Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in rage strikes wide;
But with the whif and wind of his fell fword
Th'unnerved father falls. “Then senseless Ilium,
"Seeming to feel this blow, with flaining top
"Stoops to his base; and with a hideous crash
Takes pritoner Pyrrhus' ear. For lo, his fword,.
Which was declining on the milky head
Of rev'rend Priam, feem'd i' th' air to tick ;
So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus tood;
And, like a neutral to his will and matter,

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Did nothing.

"But as we often see, against some storm,
"A filence in the heav'ns, the rack ftand ftill,
"The bold winds fpeechlefs, and the orb below
"As bufh as death; anon the dreadful thunder
Doth rend the region fo after Pyrrhus' paufe,
A roused vengeance fets him new a work;
And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
On Mars his armour, forg'd for proof eterne,
With less remorfe than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
Now falls on Priam

Out, out, thou ftrumpet Fortune! all you gods,
In general fynod take away her power.

Break all her spokes and fellies from her wheel,
And bowl the round nave 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. Pi'ythee, fay on; he's for a jigg, or a tale of bawdry, or he fleeps. Say on, come to Hecuba.

1 Play. But who, oh! who had feen the mobled Queen

Ham. The mobled Queen?

Pol. That's good; mobled Queen is good.

[flaines

1 Play Run bare-foot up and down, threat'ning the With biffon rheum; a clout upon that head, Where late the diadem stood; 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 teen, with tongue in venom fteep'd, 'Gainft Fortune's ftate would treafon have pronounc'd. bu if the gods themselves did fee her then, When the faw Pyrrhus make malicious sport 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 heaven, And paffion in the gods.

Pol. Look whe'r he has not turn'd his colour, and has tears in's eyes. Prythee, no more

Ham. 'Tis well, I'll have thee fpeak out the rest of this foon, Good my Lord, 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 chronicles of the time. After your death, you were better have a bad epitaph, than their ill report while you liv'd.

Pol. My Lord, I will use them according to their defert. Ufe e

Ham. God's bodikins, man, much better; very man after his defert, and who thall 'fcape whip. ping? ufe them after your own honour and dignity. The lefs they deserve, the more merit is in your boun ty. Take them in..

Pol. Come, Sirs.

[Exit Polonius.

Ham. Follow him, friends: we'll hear a play to-morrow. Doft thou hear me, old friend, can you play the murther of Gonzago?

Play, Ay, my Lord.

Ham. We'll ha't to morrow night. You could, for a need, ftudy a speech 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 Elfinoor.

Rof. Good my Lord,

[Exeunt

SCENE VIII. Manet Hamlet.

Ham. Ay, fo, God b' w' ye: now I am alone... Oh, what a rogue and peafant flave am I ? "Is it not monftrous, that this player here,, "But in a fiction, in a dream of paffion, "Could force his foul fo to his own conceit, "That, from her working, all his vilage wan'd;= "Tears in his eyes, diftraction in his afpect, "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 appal the free,

"Corfound the ign'rant, 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 can fay nothing,-no, not for a King,
Upon whofe property and moft dear life

A damn'd defeat † was made. Am I a coward?
Who calls me villain, breaks n.y pate across,
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face,
Tweaks me by th' rofe, gives me the lye ith' throat,
As deep as to the lungs who does me this?
Ha! why, 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, lecherous, kindlefs villain
Oh, vengeance! -

Why, what an ass am I ! this is moft brave,
That I, the fon of a dear father murthered,
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-

A fcullion,-fy upon't! foh!-about, my brain!-
I've heard, that guilty creatures, at a play,
Fave by the very cunning of the fcene

Been ftruck fo to the foul, that prefently.

They have proclaim'd their malefactions.

For murther, though it have no tongue, will fpeak.
With most miraculous organ, I'll have these players.
Play fomething like the murther of my father,
Before mine uncle. I'll obferve his looks;
Il tent him to the quick; if he but blench,
I know my courfe. The spirit that I have seen,
May be the devil; and the devil hath power
T' affume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps
Out of my weakness and my melancholy,
(As he is very potent with fuch fpirits),
Abules me to damn ine. I'll have grounds

More relative than this: the play's the thing

Wherein i'll catch the confcience of the King. [Exit.

unpregnant, for having no due fenfe of

+defeat, for deftruction,

relative, for convictive,

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