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.