King. Haue you heard the Argument, is there no Offence
in't?
Ham. No, no, they do but iest, poyson in iest, no Offence
i'th' world
King. What do you call the Play? Ham. The Mouse-trap: Marry how? Tropically: This Play is the Image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago is the Dukes name, his wife Baptista: you shall see anon: 'tis a knauish peece of worke: But what o'that? Your Maiestie, and wee that haue free soules, it touches vs not: let the gall'd iade winch: our withers are vnrung. Enter Lucianus.
This is one Lucianus nephew to the King
Ophe. You are a good Chorus, my Lord
Ham. I could interpret betweene you and your loue: if I could see the Puppets dallying
Ophe. You are keene my Lord, you are keene
Ham. It would cost you a groaning, to take off my edge
Ophe. Still better and worse
Ham. So you mistake Husbands. Begin Murderer. Pox, leaue thy damnable Faces, and begin. Come, the croaking Rauen doth bellow for Reuenge
Lucian. Thoughts blacke, hands apt,
Drugges fit, and Time agreeing:
Confederate season, else, no Creature seeing:
Thou mixture ranke, of Midnight Weeds collected,
With Hecats Ban, thrice blasted, thrice infected,
Thy naturall Magicke, and dire propertie,
On wholsome life, vsurpe immediately.