Pol.

You go to seek the Lord ^note Hamlet; there he is.

Ros. [To Polonius] ^note

God save you, sir!

Guil.

My ^note honoured lord!

Ros.

My most dear lord!

Ham.

My excellent ^note good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah ^note, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do you ^note both?

Ros.

As the indifferent children of the earth.

Guil.

Happy, in that we are not over-happy; On ^note Fortune's cap we ^note are not the very button. ^note

Ham.

Nor the soles of her shoe ^note? ^note

Ros.

Neither, my lord.

Ham.

Then you live about her waist ^note, or in the middle of her favours? ^note

Guil.

Faith, her ^note privates we.

Ham.

In the secret parts of Fortune? O, most true; she is a strumpet. What's the ^note news? ^note

Ros.

None, my lord, but that ^note the world's grown honest.

Ham.

Then is doomsday near: but ^note your news is not

true. Let me question more in particular: what have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of Fortune, that she sends you to prison hither?

Guil.

Prison, my lord!

Ham.

Denmark's a prison.

Ros.

Then is the world one.

Ham.

A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards and dungeons, Denmark being one o' the ^note worst.

Ros.

We think not so, my lord.

Ham.

Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: ^note to me it is a prison.

Ros.

Why, then your ambition makes it one; 'tis too narrow for your mind.

Ham.

O God, I could be bounded in a nut-shell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad ^note dreams.

Guil.

Which dreams indeed are ambition; for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.

Ham.

A dream itself is but a shadow.

Ros.

Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that it is but a shadow's shadow.

Ham.

Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and outstretched heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we to the court? for, by my fay ^note, I cannot reason.

Ros. Guil. ^note

We'll wait upon you.

Ham.

No such matter: I will not sort you with the rest of my servants; for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most dreadfully attended. ^note But, in the beaten way of friendship, ^note what make you at Elsinore ^note?

Ros.

To visit you, my lord; no other occasion.

Ham.

Beggar that I am, I am even ^note poor in thanks; but

I thank you: and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny ^note. Were you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, deal ^note justly with me: come, come; nay, speak.

Guil.

What should we say, my lord?

Ham.

Why ^note, any thing, but ^note to the purpose. You ^note were sent for; and there is a kind of ^note confession in your looks, which your modesties have not craft enough to colour: I know the good king and queen have sent for you.

Ros.

To what end, my lord?

Ham.

That you must teach me. But let me conjure you, by the rights of our fellowship ^note, by the consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved ^note love, and by what more dear a better proposer could ^note charge ^note you withal, be even and direct with me, whether you were sent for, or no. ^note

Ros. [Aside to Guil.] ^note

What say you?

Ham. [Aside] ^note

Nay then, I have an eye of you.— ^noteIf you love me, hold not off. ^note

Guil.

My lord, we were sent for.

Ham.

I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and ^note your secrecy to the king and queen moult ^note no feather. I ^note have of late—but wherefore I know not —lost all my mirth, foregone all custom of exercises ^note; and indeed it goes so heavily ^note with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most

excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging ^{note note} firmament ^note, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears ^note no other thing to me than ^note a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece ^note of work is a man ^note! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty ^note! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! ^note the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not me; no ^note, nor woman ^note neither, though by your smiling you seem ^note to say so.

Ros.

My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.

Ham.

Why did you ^note laugh then ^note, when I said ‘man delights not me’?

Ros.

To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten ^note entertainment the players shall receive from you: we coted ^note them on the way; and hither are they ^note coming, to offer you service.

Ham.

He that plays the king shall be welcome; his majesty shall have tribute of me ^note; the adventurous knight shall use his foil and target; the lover shall not sigh ^note gratis; the humourous man shall end his part in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickled o' the ^note sere ^note, ^note and the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank ^note verse shall halt for't. What players are they?

Ros.

Even those you were wont to take such ^note delight in, the ^note tragedians of the city.

Ham.

How chances it they ^note travel ^note? their residence, both in reputation and profit, was ^note better both ways.

Ros.

I think their inhibition comes by the means ^note of the late innovation. ^{note note}

Ham.

Do they ^note hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city? are they so followed?

Ros.

No, indeed, are they ^note not.

Ham.

How comes it? do they grow rusty?

Ros.

Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace: but there is, sir, an eyrie ^note of children, little eyases ^note, that cry out on the top of question ^note and are most tyranically clapped for't: these are now the fashion ^note, and so berattle ^note the common stages ^note—so they call them—that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goose-quills, and dare scarce come thither.

Ham.

What, are they children? who maintains 'em ^note? how are they escoted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can sing? will they not say afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common players, ^note—as it is most like, ^note if their means are no ^note better,—their writers do them ^note wrong, to make them exclaim against their own succession? ^note

Ros.

Faith, there has been much to do on both sides, and the nation holds it no sin to tarre them to controversy:

there was for a while no money bid for argument unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question.

Ham.

Is't possible?

Guil.

O, there has been much throwing about of brains.

Ham.

Do the boys carry it away?

Ros.

Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and his load ^note too. ^note

Ham.

It is not very strange; for ^note my ^note uncle is king of Denmark, and those that would make mows ^note at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty ^note, a ^note hundred ducats a-piece, for his picture in little. 'Sblood ^note, there is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could find it out.

Guil.

There are the players. ^note

Ham.

Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore ^note. Your hands, come then ^note: the appurtenance ^note of welcome is fashion and ceremony: let me comply ^note with you in this ^note garb, lest my ^note extent ^note to the players, which, I tell you, must show fairly outwards ^note, should more appear like entertainment than yours. You are welcome: but my uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived.

Guil.

In what, my dear lord?

Ham.

I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw ^note.

Pol.

Well be with you, gentlemen!

Ham.

Hark you, Guildenstern; and you too: at ^note each ear a hearer: that great baby you see there is ^note not yet out of his swaddling clouts ^note.

Ros.

Happily ^note he's ^note the second time come to them; for they say an old man is twice a child.

Ham.

I will prophesy he ^note comes to tell me of the players; mark it. You ^note say right, sir: o' ^noteMonday morning; ^note 'twas so ^note, indeed.

Pol.

My lord, I have news to tell you.

Ham.

My lord, I have news to tell you. When Roscius ^note was ^note an actor in Rome,— ^note

Pol.

The actors are come hither, my lord.

Ham.

Buz, buz!

Pol.

Upon my ^note honour,— ^note

Ham.

Then came ^note each actor on his ass,— ^{note note}

Pol.

The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, ^note tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral ^note, scene ^note individable ^note, or poem unlimited: Seneca cannot be too

heavy, nor Plautus too light. For the law of writ ^note and the liberty ^note, these ^note are the only men.

Ham.

O Jephthah ^note, judge of Israel ^note, what a treasure hadst thou!

Pol.

What a treasure ^note had he, my lord?

Ham.

Why,

  ‘One fair daughter, and no more,
    The which he loved passing well.’ ^note

Pol. [Aside] ^note

Still on my daughter.

Ham.

Am I not i' the right, old Jephthah?

Pol.

If you ^note call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I love passing well.

Ham.

Nay, that follows not. ^note

Pol.

What follows, then, my lord?

Ham.

Why,

  ‘As by lot, God wot,’ ^note

and then, you know,

  ‘It came to pass, as most like it was,’ ^note—

the first row of the pious chanson ^note will show you more; for look, where my abridgement ^note comes.

Enter ^note four or five Players.

You are ^note welcome, masters; welcome, all. I am glad to see thee ^note well. Welcome, good friends. O, my ^note old friend! Why thy ^note face is valanced ^note since I saw thee last; comest thou to beard me in Denmark? What, my young lady and mistress! By'r lady ^note, your ladyship ^note is nearer to heaven ^note than when I saw you last, by the altitude of a chopine ^note. Pray God, your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the ring. Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en to 't ^note like French ^note falconers ^note, fly at any thing we see: we'll have a speech straight: come, give us a taste of your quality; come, a passionate speech.

First Play. ^note

What speech, my good ^note lord?

Ham.

I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas caviare ^note to the general: but it was—as I received ^note it, and others, whose judgements ^note in such matters cried in the top of mine—an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember, one said there were no sallets ^note in the lines to make the matter savoury, nor no matter in the

phrase that might indict ^note the author of affection ^note; but ^note called it an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine ^note. One speech ^note in it ^note I chiefly loved: 'twas Æneas' ^note tale ^note to Dido; and thereabout of it especially, where ^note he speaks of Priam's slaughter: if it live in your memory, begin at this line; let me see, let me see;

  ‘The rugged Pyrrhus, like th' Hyrcanian ^note beast,’—

It is not so: ^note it begins with ‘Pyrrhus.’

  ‘The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms,
  Black as his ^note purpose, did the night resemble
  When he ^note lay couched in the ominous ^note horse,
  Hath now this ^note dread and black complexion smear'd
  With heraldry ^note more dismal: head to foot ^note
  Now is he total gules ^note; horridly trick'd
  With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,
  Baked and impasted ^note with the parching streets ^note,
  That lend a tyrannous and a ^note damned light
  To their lord's murder ^note: roasted in wrath and fire,
  And thus o'er-sized ^note with coagulate gore,
  With eyes like carbuncles ^note, the hellish Pyrrhus
  Old grandsire Priam seeks.’

So, proceed you. ^note

Pol.

'Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good discretion.

First Play. ^note
‘Anon he finds him
  Striking too short at Greeks; his antique ^note sword,
  Rebellious to his ^note arm, lies where it falls,
  Repugnant to command: unequal match'd ^note,
  Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes wide;
  But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
  The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium ^{note note},
  Seeming to feel this ^note blow, with flaming top
  Stoops to his base ^note, and with a hideous crash
  Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ^note ear: for, lo! his sword,
  Which was declining on the milky head
  Of reverend ^note Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick:
  So, as a painted ^note tyrant, Pyrrhus stood,
  And like ^note a neutral to his will and matter ^note,
  Did nothing. ^note
  But as we often see, against some storm,
  A silence in the heavens, the rack ^note stand still,
  The bold winds ^note speechless and the orb below
  As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder
  Doth rend the region, so ^note after Pyrrhus' ^note pause
  Aroused ^note vengeance sets him new a-work; ^note
  And never did the Cyclops' ^note hammers fall

  On Mars's armour ^note, forged for proof eterne,
  With less remorse than Pyrrhus' ^note bleeding sword
  Now falls on Priam.
  Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune ^note! All you gods,
  In general synod take away her power,
  Break all the spokes and fellies ^note from her wheel,
  And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven
  As low as to the fiends!’

Pol.

This is too ^note long.

Ham.

It shall to the ^note barber's, with your beard. Prithee, say on: he's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps: say on: come to Hecuba.

First Play.
  ‘But who, O, who ^note had seen the mobled ^note queen— ^note’

Ham.

‘The mobled ^note queen? ^note’

Pol.

That's good; ‘mobled queen’ is good. ^note

First Play.
  ‘Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames ^{note note}
  With bisson rheum ^note; 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 the alarm ^note of fear caught up:
  Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd

  'Gainst Fortune's state ^note would treason have pronounced: ^note
  But if the gods themselves did see her then,
  When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
  In mincing with his sword her husband's ^note limbs,
  The instant burst of clamour that she made,
  Unless things mortal move ^note them not at ^note all,
  Would have made milch ^note the burning eyes of heaven
  And passion in ^note the gods.’

Pol.

Look, whether ^note he has not turned his colour and has tears ^note in 's eyes. Prithee ^note, no more.

Ham.

'Tis well; I'll have thee speak out the rest of this ^note soon. Good my lord, will ^note you see the players well bestowed? Do you hear ^note, let them be well used, for they are the abstract ^note and brief chronicles of the time: after your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live ^note.

Pol.

My lord, I will use them according to their desert ^note.

Ham.

God's ^note bodykins ^note, man, much ^note better: use every man after his desert ^note, and who shall ^note 'scape whipping? Use them after your own honour and dignity: the less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty. Take them in.

Pol.

Come, sirs.

Ham.

Follow him, friends: we'll hear ^note a play to-morrow. [Exit ^note Polonius with all the Players but the First.

^noteDost thou hear me, old friend; can you play the Murder of Gonzago ^note?

First Play.

Ay, my lord.

Ham.

We'll ha't ^note to-morrow night. You could, for a need ^note, study a speech of some dozen ^note or sixteen ^note lines, which I would set down and insert in 't, could you ^note not?

First Play.

Ay, my lord.

Ham.

Very well. Follow that lord; and look you ^notemock him not. [Exit First Player.] ^note My good friends, I'll ^noteleave you till night: you are welcome to Elsinore.

Ros.

Good my ^note lord!

Ham.
Ay, so, God be wi' ye ^note! [Exeunt ^note Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.] Now I am ^note alone.
O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
Is it not monstrous that this player here,
But in a fiction ^note, in a dream of passion,
Could force his soul so to his own ^note conceit
That from her working all his visage ^note wann'd ^note;
Tears in his eyes, distraction in 's ^note aspect,
A broken voice, and ^note his whole function suiting
With forms to his conceit? ^note and all for nothing! ^note

For Hecuba! ^{note note}
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba ^note,
That he should weep for her? What would he do,
Had he the motive and the cue for ^note passion
That I have? He would drown the stage with tears
And cleave the general ear with horrid speech,
Make mad the guilty and appal ^note the free,
Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed
The very faculties ^note of eyes and ears ^note.
Yet I, ^note
A dull and ^note muddy-mettled ^note rascal, peak,
Like John-a-dreams ^note, unpregnant of my cause,
And can say ^note nothing; no, not for a king,
Upon whose property and most dear life
A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?
Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?
Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat,
As deep as to the lungs? who does me this? ^note
Ha! ^note
'Swounds, I should take it: ^note for it cannot be
But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall
To make oppression ^note bitter, or ere this

I should have ^note fatted all the region kites
With this slave's offal: bloody, ^note bawdy villain!
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain! ^note
O, vengeance! ^note
Why, ^note what an ass am I! This ^note is most brave,
That I, the son of a dear father murder'd ^note,
Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,
Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,
And fall a-cursing, like a very drab,
A scullion ^note!
Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! ^note Hum ^note, I have ^note heard
That guilty creatures, sitting ^note at a play ^note,
Have by the very cunning of the scene
Been struck so to ^note the soul that presently
They have proclaim'd their malefactions;
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players ^note
Play something like the murder of my father
Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks;
I'll tent ^note him to the quick: if he but ^note blench ^note,

I know my course. The ^note spirit that I have seen
May be the devil ^note; and the devil ^note hath power
To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps
Out of my weakness and my melancholy,
As he is very potent with such spirits,
Abuses me to damn me. I'll have grounds
More relative than this. The play's the thing
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king. [Exit.

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