Enter HAMLEt, l.

Ham. (L.) To be, or not to be, that is the question Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune;
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

And, by opposing, end them? (c.)—to die,-to sleep,-
No more; and, by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ach, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to-'tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish'd. To die?-to sleep?—
To sleep!-perchance, to dream-Ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause; there's the respect,
That makes calamity of so long life:

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To groan and sweat under a weary life;
But that the dread of something after death-
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns-puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of?

[OPHELIA re-enters at R. U. E
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprizes of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.-Soft you, now!

[Seeing OPHELIA, who advances, R. The fair Ophelia :-Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remember'd!

Oph. (R.) Good my lord,

How does your honour for this many a day?

Ham. I humbly thank you; well.

Oph. My lord, I have remembrances of yours, That I have longed long to re-deliver;

I pray you, now receive them

Ham. No, not I;

I never gave you aught.

Oph. My honour'd lord, you know right well, you did;

And, with them, words of so sweet breath composed,
As made the things more rich: their perfume lost,
Take these again; for to the noble mind

Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind.
There, my lord.

Ham. Ha, ha! are you honest ?
Oph. My lord!

Ham. Are you fair?

Oph. What means your lordship?

Ham. That if you be honest and fair, you should admit your honesty to no discourse with your beauty. Oph. Coald beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?

Ham. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd, than the force of honesty can translate beauty into his likeness: this was some time a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once.

Oph. Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.

Ham. You should not have believed me: for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock, but we shall relish of it: I loved you not.

Oph. I was the more deceived.

Ham. Get thee to a nunnery! Why would'st thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest; but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better my mother had not borne me: I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at my back than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in: what should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves, all: believe none of us; go thy ways to a nunnery.-Where's your father?

Oph. At home, my lord.

Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him; that he may play the fool no where but in 's own house. Farewell. [Runs off L. Oph. (R.) O, help him, you sweet Heavens ! Ham. [Running back to her.] If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: be thou chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.

Get thee to a nunnery! Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go! [Hastens off L Oph. (R.) Heavenly powers, restore him!

Ham. [Returns.] I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; Heaven hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another; you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nickname Heaven's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to; I'll no more of 't; it hath made me mad. [Crosses to L.] I say, we will have no more marriages: those that are married already, all but one, shall live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go! [Exit, R.

Oph. (c.) O what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The expectancy and rose of the fair state,

The glass of fashion, and the mould of form,

The observed of all observers, quite, quite down!
And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
That suck'd the honey of his music vows,
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.
O woe is me!

To have seen what I have seen, see what I see !

Re-enter KING and POLONIUS, R. s. E.

[Exit, R.

King. (R.) Love! his affections do not that way tend; Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little,

Was not like madness. (c.) There's something in his soul,

O'er which his melancholy sits on brood.

He shall with speed to England,

For the demand of our neglected tribute;
Haply, the seas, and countries different,
With variable objects, shall expel

This something-settled matter in his heart;
Whereon his brain's still beating puts him thus
From fashion of himself:-What think you on't?
Pol. (c.) It shall do well: but yet do I believe,
The origin and commencement of his grief
Sprung from neglected love.

My lord, do as you please;

But, if you hold it fit, after the play,

Let his queen mother all alone entreat him

To show his grief; let her be round with him;
And I'll be placed, so please you, in the ear
Of all their conference; if she finds him not,
To England send him; or confine him, where
Your wisdom best shall think.

King. (L.) It shall be so:

Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go.

[Exeunt, L.

Enter the FIRST ACTOR and HAMLET, R. Hum. (R.) Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue; but, if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lieve the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus; but use all gently for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance, that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings! who, for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows, and noise: I would have such a fellow whipped for o'er-doing Termagant; it out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it. 1 Act. (R.) I warrant your honour.

Ham. Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor: suit the action to the word, and the word to the action; with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature for any thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first, and now, was, and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time, his form and pressure. Now this, over-done, or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot hut make the judicious grieve; the censure of which one, must, in your allowance, o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players that I have seen play-and heard others praise, and that highly-not to speak it profanely, that neither having the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, Pagan, or man, have so strutted, and bellowed, that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.

1 Act. I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us.

Ham. (c.) O, reform it altogether. And let those, that play your clowns, speak no more than is set down for them for there be of them, that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too; though, in the mean time, some necessary question of the play be then to be considered: that's villanous; and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it. Go, make you ready.

Horatio!

Enter HORATIO, R.

[Exit 1 ACTOR, L.

Hor. (R.) Here, sweet lord, at your service.
Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
As e'er my conversation coped withal.
Hor. O, my dear lord.-

Ham. Nay, do not think I flatter;

For what advancement may I hope from thee,
That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits,

To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flattered?

No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,

And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,

Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice,

And could of men distinguish, her election

She hath seal'd thee for herself: for thou hast been
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing;

A man, that fortune's buffets and rewards

Hast ta'en with equal thanks: and bless'd are those
Whose blood and judgment are so well co-mingled,
That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger
To sound what stop she please give me that man
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee. Something too much of this.
There is a play to-night before the king;
One scene of it comes near the circumstance,
Wt.ich I have told thee, of my father's death.
I pr'ythee, when thou see'st that act a-foot,
E'en with the very commend of thy soul
Observe my uncle; if his occulted guilt
Do not itself unkennel in one speech,
It is a damned ghost that we have seen;