Guild. My Lord, I cannot.
Ham. I pray you.
Guild. Believe me, I cannot.
Ham. I do befeech you.
Guild. I know no touch of it, my Lord.
Ham. 'Tis as eafie as lying; govern thefe Ventiges with your Finger and Thumb, give it Breath with your Mouth, and it will difcourfe moft excellent Mufick.
Look you, these are the ftops.
Guild. But thefe cannot I command to any utterance of Harmony, I have not the Skill.
Ham. Why look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me; you would play upon me, you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the Heart of my Mystery, you would found me from my loweft Note, to the top of my Compafs, and there is much Mufick, excellent Voice, in this little Organ, yet cannot you make it. Why do you think, that I am eafier to be plaid on than a Pipe? Call me what Inftrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me. God bless you, Sir.
Pol. My Lord, the Queen would fspeak with you, and prefently.
Ham. Do you fee that Cloud, that's almost in shape like
Pol. By th' Mafs, and it's like a Camel indeed.
Ham. Methinks it is like a Wezel.
Pol. It is back'd like a Wezel.
Ham. Or like a Whale?
Pol. Very like a Whale.
Ham. Then will I come to my Mother by and by; They fool me to the top of my Bent.
I will come by and by.
Pol. I will fay fo.
Ham. By and by is eafily faid. Leave me, friends Exe.
'Tis now the very witching time of Night,
When Church-yards yawn, and Hell it felf breaths out Contagion to this World. Now could I drink hot Blood, And do fuch bitter Bufinefs as the Day
Would quake to look on. Soft, now to my Mother
Oh Heart, lofe not thy Nature; let not ever
The Soul of Nero enter this firm Bofom;
Let me be cruel, not unnatural,
I will fpeak Daggers to her, but use none.
My Tongue and Soul in this be Hypocrites;
How in my words fomever fhe be fhent,
To give them Seals, never my Soul confent.
Enter King, Rofeneraus, and Guildenftern.
King. I like him not, nor ftands it fafe with us,
To let his Madness range. Therefore prepare you;
I your Commiffion will forthwith dispatch,
And he to England fhall along with you,
The Terms of our Eftate may not endure
Hazard fo dangerous, as doth hourly grow
Out of his Lunacies.
Guild. We will our felves provide ;
Moft holy and religious Fear it is,
To keep thofe many Bodies fafe, that live
And feed upon your Majefty.
Rof. The fingle and peculiar Life is bound
With all the Strength and Armour of the Mind,
To keep it felf from noyance; but much more,
That Spirit, upon whofe Spirit depends and refts
The Lives of many; the ceafe of Majesty
Dies not alone, but like a Gulf doth draw
What's near it, with it, it is a maffy Wheel
Fixt on the Summit of the higheft Mount,
To whofe huge Spoaks, ten thousand leffer things
Are mortiz'd and adjoin'd; which when it falls,
Each small annexment, petty confequence
Attends the boiftrous Ruin. Never alone
Did the King figh, but with a general groan.
King. Arm you, I pray you, to this fpeedy Voyage;
For we will Fetters put upon this Fear,
Which now goes too free-footed.
Both. We will hafte us.
Pol. My Lord, he's going to his Mother's Closet ;
Behind the Arras I'll convey my self
To hear the Procefs. I'll warrant fhe'll tax him home.
And as you faid, and wifely was it faid,
'Tis meet that fome more Audience than a Mother,
Since Nature makes them partial, fhould o'er-hear
The Speech of Vantage. Fare you well, my Liege,
I'll call upon you e'er you go to bed,
And tell you what I know.
King. Thanks, dear my Lord.
Oh my Offence is rank, it fmells to Heav'n,
It hath the primal eldest curfe upon't ;
A Brother's Murther. Pray I cannot,
Though Inclination be as harp as Will
My ftronger Guilt defeats my ftrong Intent,
And like a Man to double Business bound,
I ftand in pawfe where I fhall firft begin,
And both negle&; what if this curfed Hand
Were thicker than it felf with Brother's Blood,
Is there not Rain enough in the sweet Heav'ns
To wash it white as Snow? whereto ferves Mercy?
But to confront the vifage of Offence?
And what's in Prayer, but this two-fold Force,
To be forestalled e'er we come to fall,
Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up,
My Fault is paft. But oh, what Form of Prayer
Can ferve my turn? Forgive me my foul Murther,
That cannot be, fince I am ftill poffeft
Of those Effects for which I did the Murther,
My Crown, mine own Ambition, and my Queen.
May one be pardon'd, and retain th'offence?
In the corrupted Currents of this World,
Offences gilded Hand may fhove by Juftice,
And oft 'tis feen, the wicked prize it felf
Buys out the Law; but 'tis not fo above,
There is no fhuffling, there the Action lyes
In his true Nature, and we our felves compell'd
Even to the Teeth and Fore-head of our Faults,
To give in Evidence. What then? what refts?
Try what Repentance can. What can it not?
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?
Oh wretched State! oh Bɔfom, black as Death!
Oh limed Soul, that ftrugling to be free,
Art more irgag'd! Help Argels, make assay:
Bow stubborn Knees, and Heart with ftrings of Steel,
Be foft as finews of the new-born Babe,
Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying,
And now I'll do't- and fo he goes to Heav'n,
And fo am I reveng'd: that would be scann'd,
A Villain kills my Father, and for that
I his fole Son, do this fame Villain fend
To Heav'nO this is Hire and Sallery, not Revenge:
He took my Father grofsly, full of bread,
With all his Crimes broad blown, as fresh as May,
And how his Audit ftands, who knows, fave Heav'n
But in our circumftance and courfe of Thought,
'Tis heavy with him. And am I then reveng'd,
To take him in the purging of his Soul,
When he is fit and feafon'd for his paffage? No.
Up Sword, and know thou a more horrid time
When he is drunk afleep, or in his rage,
Or in th' incestuous pleasure of his Bed,
At gaming, fwearing, or about fome act
That has no relish of Salvation in't,
Then trip him, that his heels may kick at Heav'n,
And that his Soul may be as damn'd and black
As Hell, whereto it goes. My Mother stays,
This Phyfick but prolongs thy fickly days.
King. My words fly up, my thoughts remain below,
Words, without thoughts, never to Heav'n go.
SCENE II. The Queen's Apartment.
Enter Queen, and Polonius.
Pol. He will come ftraight; look you lay home to him,
Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with,
And that your Grace hath fcreen'd, and ftood between
Much heat and him. I'll filence me e'en here;
Pray you be round with him.
Ham. within. Mother, Mother, Mother.
Queen. I'll warrant you, fear me not.
Withdraw, I hear him coming.
[Polonius hides himself behind the Arras.
Ham. Now, Mother, what's the Matter?
Queen. Hamlet, thou haft thy Father much offended.
Ham. Mother, you have my Father much offended.
Queen. Come, come, you anfwer with an idle tongue.
Ham. Go, go, you queftion with an idle tongue.
Queen. Why how now, Hamlet?
Ham. What's the matter now?
Queen. Have you forgot me?
Ham. No, by the Rood, not fo;
You are the Queen, your Husband's Brother's Wife,
But would you were not fo. You are my Mother.
Queen. Nay, then I'll fet those to you that can speak.
Ham. Come, come, and fit you down, you fhall not
budge:
You go not 'till I fet you up a Glafs,
Where you may fee the inmoft part
Queen. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murther me? Help, help, ho.
Pol. What ho, help, help, help.
Ham. How now, a Rat? dead for a Ducate, dead.
Queen. Oh me, what haft thou done?
Ham. Nay I know not, is it the King?
Queen. Oh, what a rash and bloody deed is this!
Ham. A bloody deed, almost as bad, good Mother,
As kill a King, and marry with his Brother.
Queen. As kill'd a King?
Ham. Ay Lady, 'twas my word.
Thou wretched, rafh, intruding Fool, farewel,
I took thee for thy Betters, take thy Fortune,
Thou find'ft to be too bufie, is fome danger.
Leave wringing of your hands, peace, fit you down,
And let me wring your heart, for fo I fhall
If it be made of penetrable ftuff;
If damned Cuftom have not braz'd it fo,
That it is proof and bulwark against Sense.
Queen. What have I done, that thou dar'ft wag thy tongue In noife fo rude against me?
That blurs the Grace and blufh of Modefty,
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