Part 16

King. Sweet Gertrude leaue vs too, For we haue closely sent for Hamlet hither, That he, as 'twere by accident, may there Affront Ophelia. Her Father, and my selfe (lawful espials) Will so bestow our selues, that seeing vnseene We may of their encounter frankely iudge, And gather by him, as he is behaued, If't be th' affliction of his loue, or no. That thus he suffers for

Qu. I shall obey you, And for your part Ophelia, I do wish That your good Beauties be the happy cause Of Hamlets wildenesse: so shall I hope your Vertues Will bring him to his wonted way againe, To both your Honors

Ophe. Madam, I wish it may

Pol. Ophelia, walke you heere. Gracious so please ye We will bestow our selues: Reade on this booke, That shew of such an exercise may colour Your lonelinesse. We are oft too blame in this, 'Tis too much prou'd, that with Deuotions visage, And pious Action, we do surge o're The diuell himselfe

King. Oh 'tis true: How smart a lash that speech doth giue my Conscience? The Harlots Cheeke beautied with plaist'ring Art Is not more vgly to the thing that helpes it, Then is my deede, to my most painted word. Oh heauie burthen! Pol. I heare him comming, let's withdraw my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the Question: Whether 'tis Nobler in the minde to suffer The Slings and Arrowes of outragious Fortune, Or to take Armes against a Sea of troubles, And by opposing end them: to dye, to sleepe No more; and by a sleepe, to say we end The Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes That Flesh is heyre too? 'Tis a consummation Deuoutly to be wish'd. To dye to sleepe, To sleepe, perchance to Dreame; I, there's the rub, For in that sleepe of death, what dreames may come, When we haue shuffel'd off this mortall coile, Must giue vs pawse. There's the respect That makes Calamity of so long life: For who would beare the Whips and Scornes of time, The Oppressors wrong, the poore mans Contumely, The pangs of dispriz'd Loue, the Lawes delay, The insolence of Office, and the Spurnes That patient merit of the vnworthy takes, When he himselfe might his Quietus make With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardles beare To grunt and sweat vnder a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The vndiscouered Countrey, from whose Borne No Traueller returnes, Puzels the will, And makes vs rather beare those illes we haue, Then flye to others that we know not of. Thus Conscience does make Cowards of vs all, And thus the Natiue hew of Resolution Is sicklied o're, with the pale cast of Thought, And enterprizes of great pith and moment, With this regard their Currants turne away, And loose the name of Action. Soft you now, The faire Ophelia? Nimph, in thy Orizons Be all my sinnes remembred

Ophe. Good my Lord, How does your Honor for this many a day? Ham. I humbly thanke you: well, well, well

Ophe. My Lord, I haue Remembrances of yours, That I haue longed long to re-deliuer. I pray you now, receiue them

Ham. No, no, I neuer gaue you ought

Ophe. My honor'd Lord, I know right well you did, And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd, As made the things more rich, then perfume left: Take these againe, for to the Noble minde Rich gifts wax poore, when giuers proue vnkinde. There my Lord

Ham. Ha, ha: Are you honest? Ophe. My Lord

Ham. Are you faire? Ophe. What meanes your Lordship? Ham. That if you be honest and faire, your Honesty should admit no discourse to your Beautie

Ophe. Could Beautie my Lord, haue better Comerce then your Honestie? Ham. I trulie: for the power of Beautie, will sooner transforme Honestie from what is, to a Bawd, then the force of Honestie can translate Beautie into his likenesse. This was sometime a Paradox, but now the time giues it proofe. I did loue you once

Ophe. Indeed my Lord, you made me beleeue so

Ham. You should not haue beleeued me. For vertue cannot so innocculate our old stocke, but we shall rellish of it. I loued you not

Ophe. I was the more deceiued

Ham. Get thee to a Nunnerie. Why would'st thou be a breeder of Sinners? I am my selfe indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better my Mother had not borne me. I am very prowd, reuengefull, Ambitious, with more offences at my becke, then I haue thoughts to put them in imagination, to giue them shape, or time to acte them in. What should such Fellowes as I do, crawling betweene Heauen and Earth. We are arrant Knaues all, beleeue none of vs. Goe thy wayes to a Nunnery. Where's your Father? Ophe. At home, my Lord

Ham. Let the doores be shut vpon him, that he may play the Foole no way, but in's owne house. Farewell

Ophe. O helpe him, you sweet Heauens

Ham. If thou doest Marry, Ile giue thee this Plague for thy Dowrie. Be thou as chast as Ice, as pure as Snow, thou shalt not escape Calumny. Get thee to a Nunnery. Go, Farewell. 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, and quickly too. Farwell

Ophe. O heauenly Powers, restore him

Ham. I haue heard of your pratlings too wel enough. God has giuen you one pace, and you make your selfe another: you gidge, you amble, and you lispe, and nickname Gods creatures, and make your Wantonnesse, your Ignorance. Go too, Ile no more on't, it hath made me mad. I say, we will haue no more Marriages. Those that are married already, all but one shall liue, the rest shall keep as they are. To a Nunnery, go.

Exit Hamlet.

Ophe. O what a Noble minde is heere o're-throwne? The Courtiers, Soldiers, Schollers: Eye, tongue, sword, Th' expectansie and Rose of the faire State, The glasse of Fashion, and the mould of Forme, Th' obseru'd of all Obseruers, quite, quite downe. Haue I of Ladies most deiect and wretched, That suck'd the Honie of his Musicke Vowes: Now see that Noble, and most Soueraigne Reason, Like sweet Bels iangled out of tune, and harsh, That vnmatch'd Forme and Feature of blowne youth, Blasted with extasie. Oh woe is me, T'haue seene what I haue seene: see what I see. Enter King, and Polonius.

King. Loue? His affections do not that way tend, Nor what he spake, though it lack'd Forme a little, Was not like Madnesse. There's something in his soule? O're which his Melancholly sits on brood, And I do doubt the hatch, and the disclose Will be some danger, which to preuent I haue in quicke determination Thus set it downe. He shall with speed to England For the demand of our neglected Tribute: Haply the Seas and Countries different With variable Obiects, shall expell This something setled matter in his heart: Whereon his Braines still beating, puts him thus From fashion of himselfe. What thinke you on't? Pol. It shall do well. But yet do I beleeue The Origin and Commencement of this greefe Sprung from neglected loue. How now Ophelia? You neede not tell vs, what Lord Hamlet saide, We heard it all. My Lord, do as you please, But if you hold it fit after the Play, Let his Queene Mother all alone intreat him To shew his Greefes: let her be round with him, And Ile be plac'd so, please you in the eare Of all their Conference. If she finde him not, To England send him: Or confine him where Your wisedome best shall thinke

King. It shall be so: Madnesse in great Ones, must not vnwatch'd go.