[Sc. vii.]
King Loue? No, no, that's not the cause, Enter King and Corambis.
Some deeper thing it is that troubles him.
Cor. Wel, something it is: my Lord, content you a while,
I will my selfe goe feele him: let me worke,
Ile try him euery way: see where he comes, 5
Send you those Gentlemen, let me alone
To finde the depth of this, away, be gone. exit King.
Now my good Lord, do you know me? Enter Hamlet.
Ham. Yea very well, y'are a fishmonger.
Cor. Not I my Lord. 10
Ham. Then sir, I would you were so honest a man,
For to be honest, as this age goes,
Is one man to be pickt out of tenne thousand.
Cor. What doe you reade my Lord?
Ham. Wordes, wordes. 15
Cor. What's the matter my Lord?
Ham. Betweene who?
Cor. I meane the matter you reade my Lord.
Ham. Mary most vile heresie:
For here the Satyricall Satyre writes,
That olde men haue hollow eyes, weake backes,
Grey beardes, pittifull weake hammes, gowty legges,
All which sir, I most potently beleeue not:
For sir, your selfe shalbe olde as I am,
If like a Crabbe, you could goe backeward. 25
Cor. How pregnant his replies are, and full of wit:
Yet at first he tooke me for a fishmonger:
All this comes by loue, the vemencie of loue,
And when I was yong, I was very idle,
And suffered much extasie in loue, very neere this: 30
Will you walke out of the aire my Lord?
Ham. Into my graue.
Cor. By the masse that's out of the aire indeed,
Very shrewd answers,
My lord I will take my leaue of you. 35
Enter Gilderstone, and Rossencraft.
Ham. You can take nothing from me sir,
I will more willingly part with all,
Olde doating foole.
Cor. You seeke Prince Hamlet, see, there he is. exit.
Gil. Health to your Lordship. 40
Ham. What, Gilderstone, and Rossencraft,
Welcome kinde Schoole-fellowes to Elsanoure.
Gil. We thanke your Grace, and would be very glad
You were as when we were at Wittenberg.
Ham. I thanke you, but is this visitation free of 45
Your selues, or were you not sent for?
Tell me true, come, I know the good King and Queene
Sent for you, there is a kinde of confession in your eye:
Come, I know you were sent for.
Gil. What say you? 50
Ham. Nay then I see how the winde sits,
Come, you were sent for.
Ross. My lord, we were, and willingly if we might,
Know the cause and ground of your discontent.
Ham. Why I want preferment. 55
Ross. I thinke not so my lord.
Ham. Yes faith, this great world you see contents me not,
No nor the spangled heauens, nor earth, nor sea,
No nor Man that is so glorious a creature,
Contents not me, no nor woman too, though you laugh. 60
Gil. My lord, we laugh not at that.
Ham. Why did you laugh then,
When I said, Man did not content mee?
Gil. My Lord, we laughed, when you said, Man did not
content you. 65
What entertainement the Players shall haue,
We boorded them a the way: they are comming to you.
Ham. Players, what Players be they?
Ross. My Lord, the Tragedians of the Citty,
Those that you tooke delight to see so often. 70
Ham. How comes it that they trauell? Do they grow restie?
Gil. No my Lord, their reputation holds as it was wont.
Ham. How then?
Gil. Yfaith my Lord, noueltie carries it away,
For the principall publike audience that 75
Came to them, are turned to priuate playes,
And to the humour of children.
Ham. I doe not greatly wonder of it,
For those that would make mops and moes
At my vncle, when my father liued, 80
Now giue a hundred, two hundred pounds
For his picture: but they shall be welcome,
He that playes the King shall haue tribute of me,
The ventrous Knight shall vse his foyle and target,
The louer shall sigh gratis, 85
The clowne shall make them laugh
That are tickled in the lungs, or the blanke verse shall halt for't,
And the Lady shall haue leaue to speake her minde freely.
The Trumpets sound, Enter Corambis.
Do you see yonder great baby?
He is not yet out of his swadling clowts. 90
Gil. That may be, for they say an olde man
Is twice a childe.
Ham. Ile prophecie to you, hee comes to tell mee a the Players,
You say true, a monday last, t'was so indeede.
Cor. My lord, I haue news to tell you. 95
Ham. My Lord, I haue newes to tell you:
When Rossios was an Actor in Rome.
Cor. The Actors are come hither, my lord.
Ham. Buz, buz.
Cor. The best Actors in Christendome, 100
Either for Comedy, Tragedy, Historie, Pastorall,
Pastorall, Historicall, Historicall, Comicall,
Comicall historicall, Pastorall, Tragedy historicall:
Seneca cannot be too heauy, nor Plato too light:
For the law hath writ those are the onely men. 105
Ha. O Iepha Iudge of Israel! what a treasure hadst thou?
Cor. Why what a treasure had he my lord?
Ham. Why one faire daughter, and no more,
The which he loued passing well.
Cor. A, stil harping a my daughter! well my Lord, 110
If you call me Iepha, I hane a daughter that
I loue passing well.
Ham. Nay that followes not.
Cor. What followes then my Lord?
Ham. Why by lot, or God wot, or as it came to passe, 115
And so it was, the first verse of the godly Ballet
Wil tel you all: for look you where my abridgement comes:
Welcome maisters, welcome all, Enter players.
What my olde friend, thy face is vallanced
Since I saw thee last, com'st thou to beard me in Denmarke? 120
My yong lady and mistris, burlady but your
Ladiship is growne by the altitude of a chopine higher than you were:
Pray God sir your voyce, like a peece of vncurrant
Golde, be not crack't in the ring: come on maisters,
Weele euen too't, like French Falconers, 125
Flie at any thing we see, come, a taste of your
Quallitie, a speech, a passionate speech.
Players What speech my good lord?
Ham. I heard thee speake a speech once,
But it was neuer acted: or if it were, 130
Neuer aboue twice, for as I remember,
It pleased not the vulgar, it was cauiary
To the million: but to me
And others, that receiued it in the like kinde,
Cried in the toppe of their iudgements, an excellent play, 135
Set downe with as great modestie as cunning:
One said there was no sallets in the lines to make the sauory,
But called it an honest methode, as wholesome as sweete.
Come, a speech in it I chiefly remember
Was Æneas tale to Dido, 140
And then especially where he talkes of Princes slaughter,
If it liue in thy memory beginne at this line,
Let me see.
The rugged Pyrrus, like th'arganian beast:
No t'is not so, it begins with Pirrus: 145
O I haue it.
The rugged Pirrus, he whose sable armes,
Blacke as his purpose did the night resemble,
When he lay couched in the ominous horse,
Hath now his blacke and grimme complexion smeered 150
With Heraldry more dismall, head to foote,
Now is he totall guise, horridely tricked
With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sonnes,
Back't and imparched in calagulate gore,
Rifted in earth and fire, olde grandsire Pryam seekes:
So goe on.
Cor. Afore God, my Lord, well spoke, and with good accent.
Play. Anone he finds him striking too short at Greeks,
His antike sword rebellious to his Arme,
Lies where it falles, vnable to resist. 160
Pyrrus at Pryam driues, but all in rage,
Strikes wide, but with the whiffe and winde
Of his fell sword, th' unnerued father falles.
Cor. Enough my friend, t'is too long.
Ham. It shall to the Barbers with your beard: 165
A pox, hee's for a Iigge, or a tale of bawdry,
Or else he sleepes, come on to Hecuba, come.
Play. But who, O who had seene the mobled Queene?
Cor. Mobled Queene is good, faith very good.
Play. All in the alarum and feare of death rose vp, 170
And o're her weake and all ore-teeming loynes, a blancket
And a kercher on that head, where late the diademe stoode,
Who this had seene with tongue inuenom'd speech,
Would treason haue pronounced,
For if the gods themselues had seene her then, 175
When she saw Pirrus with malitious strokes,
Mincing her husbandes limbs,
It would have made milch the burning eyes of heauen,
And passion in the gods.
Cor. Looke my lord if he hath not changde his colour, 180
And hath teares in his eyes: no more good heart, no more.
Ham. T'is well, t'is very well, I pray my lord,
Will you see the Players well bestowed,
I tell you they are the Chronicles
And briefe abstracts of the time, 185
After your death I can tell you,
You were better haue a bad Epiteeth,
Then their ill report while you liue.
Cor. My lord, I will vse them according to their deserts.
Ham. O farre better man, vse euery man after his deserts, 190
Then who should scape whipping?
Vse them after your owne honor and dignitie,
The lesse they deserue, the greater credit's yours.
Cor. Welcome my good fellowes. exit.
Ham. Come hither maisters, can you not play the murder 195
of Gonsago?
Players Yes my Lord.
Ham. And could'st not thou for a neede study me
Some dozen or sixteene lines,
Which I would set downe and insert? 200
Players Yes very easily my good Lord.
Ham. T'is well, I thanke you: follow that lord:
And doe you heare sirs? take heede you mocke him not.
Gentlemen, for your kindnes I thanke you,
And for a time I would desire you leaue me. 205
Gil. Our loue and duetie is at your commaund.
Exeunt all but Hamlet.
Ham. Why what a dunghill idiote slaue am I?
Why these Players here draw water from eyes:
For Hecuba, why what is Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba?
What would he do and if he had my losse? 210
His father murdred, and a Crowne bereft him,
He would turne all his teares to droppes of blood,
Amaze the standers by with his laments,
Strike more then wonder in the iudiciall eares,
Confound the ignorant, and make mute the wise, 215
Indeede his passion would be generall.
Yet I like to an asse and Iohn a Dreames,
Hauing my father murdred by a villaine,
Stand still, and let it passe, why sure I am a coward:
Who pluckes me by the beard, or twites my nose, 220
Giue's me the lie i'th throate downe to the lungs,
Sure I should take it, or else I haue no gall,
Or by this I should a fatted all the region kites
With this slaues offell, this damned villaine,
Treacherous, bawdy, murderous villaine: 225
Why this is braue, that I the sonne of my deare father,
Should like a scalion, like a very drabbe
Thus raile in wordes. About my braine,
I haue heard that guilty creatures sitting at a play,
Hath, by the very cunning of the scene, confest a murder 230
Committed long before.
This spirit that I haue seene may be the Diuell,
And out of my weakenesse and my melancholy,
As he is very potent with such men,
Doth seeke to damne me, I will haue sounder proofes, 235
The play's the thing,
Wherein I'le catch the conscience of the King. exit.