breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do your mother's commandment; if not, your pardon and my return shall be the end of my business. Ham. Sir, I cannot. Guil. What, my lord? Ham. Make you a wholesome answer; my wit 's diseased: but, Sir, such answer as I can make, you shall command; or, rather, as you say, my mother: therefore no more, but to the matter. My mother, you say, Ros. Then, thus she says. Your behaviour hath struck her into amazement and admiration. Ham. O wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother! But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? impart. Ros. She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere you go to bed. Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any farther trade with us? Ros. My lord, you once did love me. Ham. And do still, by these pickers and stealers. Ros. Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? you do, surely, but bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend. Ham. Sir, I lack advancement. Ros. How can that be, when you have the voice of the king himself for your succession in Denmark? Ham. Ay, Sir, but "while the grass grows," the proverb is something musty. Enter the Players, with Recorders. - O! the recorders: let me see one. To withdraw with you: why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toil? Guil. O, my lord! if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly. Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe? Guil. My lord, I cannot. Ham. I pray you. Guil. Believe me, I cannot. Ham. I do beseech you. Guil. I know no touch of it, my lord. Ham. It is as easy as lying: govern these ventages with your finger and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops. Guil. But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony: I have not the skill. Ham. Why look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me. You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood! do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me. God bless you, Sir! Enter POLONIUS. Pol. My lord, the queen would speak with you, and presently. Ham. Do you see yonder cloud, that's almost in shape of a camel? Pol. By the mass, and 't is like a camel, indeed. Ham. Methinks, it is like a weasel. Pol. It is backed like a weasel. Ham. Then, will I come to my mother by and by. fool me to the top of my bent. Pol. I will say so. I will come by and by. [Exit POLONIUS. Ham. By and by is easily said. - Leave me, friends. [Exeunt Ros., GUIL., HOR., &.c. 'T is now the very witching time of night, Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood, Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother. I will speak daggers to her, but use none; SCENE III. A Room in the Same. Enter King, Rosencrantz, and GUILDENSTern. The terms of our estate may not endure Guil. We will ourselves provide. To keep those many many bodies safe, Ros. The single and peculiar life is bound, VI. [Exit. 65 Did the king sigh, but with a general groan. King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage; For we will fetters put upon this fear, Which now goes too free-footed. Ros. and Guil. We will haste us. [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and Guildenstern. Enter POLONIUS. Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet. To hear the process: I'll warrant, she 'll tax him home; 'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother, Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear And tell you what I know. King. Thanks, dear my lord. [Exit POLONIUS. O! my offence is rank, it smells to heaven; And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force, Or pardon'd, being down? Then, I'll look up: That cannot be; since I am still possess'd O limed soul, that struggling to be free, Art more engaged! Help, angels! make assay: Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart, with strings of steel, All may be well. Enter HAMLet. [Retires and kneels. Ham. Now might I do it, pat, now he is praying; And now I'll do 't: and so he goes to heaven, And so am I reveng'd? That would be scann'd: A villain kills my father; and for that, I, his sole son, do this same villain send Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge. He took my father grossly, full of bread; With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May, And how his audit stands, who knows, save heaven? |