_Cor._ Madam I will: my Lord, I haue a daughter, Haue while shee"s mine: for that we thinke Is surest, we often loose: now to the Prince.
My Lord, but note this letter, The which my daughter in obedience Deliuer"d to my handes.
_King_ Reade it my Lord.
_Cor._ Marke my Lord.
Doubt that in earth is fire, Doubt that the starres doe moue, Doubt trueth to be a liar, But doe not doubt I loue.
To the beautifull _Ofelia_: Thine euer the most vnhappy Prince _Hamlet_.
My Lord, what doe you thinke of me?
I, or what might you thinke when I sawe this?
_King_ As of a true friend and a most louing subiect.
_Cor._ I would be glad to prooue so.
Now when I saw this letter, thus I bespake my maiden: Lord _Hamlet_ is a Prince out of your starre, And one that is vnequall for your loue: Therefore I did commaund her refuse his letters, Deny his tokens, and to absent her selfe.
Shee as my childe obediently obey"d me.
Now since which time, seeing his loue thus cross"d, Which I tooke to be idle, and but sport, He straitway grew into a melancholy, From that vnto a fast, then vnto distraction, Then into a sadnesse, from that vnto a madnesse, And so by continuance, and weakenesse of the braine [D4v]
Into this frensie, which now possesseth him: And if this be not true, take this from this.
_King_ Thinke you t"is so?
_Cor._ How? so my Lord, I would very faine know That thing that I haue saide t"is so, positiuely, And it hath fallen out otherwise.
Nay, if circ.u.mstances leade me on, Ile finde it out, if it were hid As deepe as the centre of the earth.
_King_. how should wee trie this same?
_Cor._ Mary my good lord thus, The Princes walke is here in the galery, There let _Ofelia_, walke vntill hee comes: Your selfe and I will stand close in the study, There shall you heare the effect of all his hart, And if it proue any otherwise then loue, Then let my censure faile an other time.
_King_. See where hee comes poring vppon a booke.
_Enter Hamlet._ _Cor._ Madame, will it please your grace To leaue vs here?
_Que._ With all my hart. _exit._ _Cor._ And here _Ofelia_, reade you on this booke, And walke aloofe, the King shal be vnseene.
_Ham._ To be, or not to be, I there"s the point, To Die, to sleepe, is that all? I all: No, to sleepe, to dreame, I mary there it goes, For in that dreame of death, when wee awake, And borne before an euerlasting Iudge, From whence no pa.s.senger euer retur"nd, The vndiscouered country, at whose sight The happy smile, and the accursed d.a.m.n"d.
But for this, the ioyfull hope of this, Whol"d beare the scornes and flattery of the world, Scorned by the right rich, the rich curssed of the poore?
The widow being oppressd, the orphan wrong"d; [E1]
The taste of hunger, or a tirants raigne, And thousand more calamities besides, To grunt and sweate vnder this weary life, When that he may his full _Quietus_ make, With a bare bodkin, who would this indure, But for a hope of something after death?
Which pusles the braine, and doth confound the sence, Which makes vs rather beare those euilles we haue, Than flie to others that we know not of.
I that, O this conscience makes cowardes of vs all, Lady in thy orizons, be all my sinnes remembred.
_Ofel._ My Lord, I haue sought opportunitie, which now I haue, to redeliuer to your worthy handes, a small remem- brance, such tokens which I haue receiued of you.
_Ham._ Are you faire?
_Ofel._ My Lord.
_Ham._ Are you honest?
_Ofel._ What meanes my Lord?
_Ham._ That if you be faire and honest, Your beauty should admit no discourse to your honesty.
_Ofel._ My Lord, can beauty haue better priuiledge than with honesty?
_Ham._ Yea mary may it; for Beauty may transforme Honesty, from what she was into a bawd: Then Honesty can transforme Beauty: This was sometimes a Paradox, But now the time giues it scope.
I neuer gaue you nothing.
_Ofel._ My Lord, you know right well you did, And with them such earnest vowes of loue, As would haue moou"d the stoniest breast aliue, But now too true I finde, Rich giftes waxe poore, when giuers grow vnkinde.
_Ham._ I neuer loued you.
_Ofel._ You made me beleeue you did.
_Ham._ O thou shouldst not a beleeued me! [E1v]
Go to a Nunnery goe, why shouldst thou Be a breeder of sinners? I am my selfe indifferent honest, But I could accuse my selfe of such crimes It had beene better my mother had ne"re borne me, O I am very prowde, ambitious, disdainefull, With more sinnes at my becke, then I haue thoughts To put them in, what should such fellowes as I Do, crawling between heauen and earth?
To a Nunnery goe, we are arrant knaues all, Beleeue none of vs, to a Nunnery goe.
_Ofel._ O heauens secure him!
_Ham._ Wher"s thy father?
_Ofel._ At home my lord.
_Ham._ For G.o.ds sake let the doores be shut on him, He may play the foole no where but in his Owne house: to a Nunnery goe.
_Ofel._ Help him good G.o.d.
_Ham._ If thou dost marry, Ile giue thee This plague to thy dowry: Be thou as chaste as yce, as pure as snowe, Thou shalt not scape calumny, to a Nunnery goe.
_Ofel._ Alas, what change is this?
_Ham._ But if thou wilt needes marry, marry a foole, For wis.e.m.e.n know well enough, What monsters you make of them, to a Nunnery goe.
_Ofel._ Pray G.o.d restore him.
_Ham._ Nay, I haue heard of your paintings too, G.o.d hath giuen you one face, And you make your selues another, You fig, and you amble, and you nickname G.o.ds creatures, Making your wantonnesse, your ignorance, A pox, t"is scuruy, Ile no more of it, It hath made me madde: Ile no more marriages, All that are married but one, shall liue, The rest shall keepe as they are, to a Nunnery goe, To a Nunnery goe. _exit._[E2]
_Ofe._ Great G.o.d of heauen, what a quicke change is this?
The Courtier, Scholler, Souldier, all in him, All dasht and splinterd thence, O woe is me, To a seene what I haue seene, see what I see. _exit._ _King_ Loue? No, no, that"s not the cause, _Enter King and_ Some deeper thing it is that troubles him. _Corambis._ _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, 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.
_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.
_Cor._ What"s the matter my Lord?
_Ham._ Betweene who?
_Car._ 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.
_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: Will you walke out of the aire my Lord?
_Ham._ Into my graue. [E2v]
_Cor._ By the ma.s.se that"s out of the aire indeed, Very shrewd answers, My lord I will take my leaue of you.
_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.
_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 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?
_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.
_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.
_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.
What entertainment the Players shall haue, We boorded them a the way: they are comming to you. [E3]
_Ham._ Players, what Players be they?
_Ross._ My Lord, the Tragedians of the Citty, Those that you tooke delight to see so often. (stie?
_Ham._ How comes it that they trauell? Do they grow re- _Gil._ No my Lord, their reputation holds as it was wont.
_Ham._ How then?
_Gil._ Yfaith my Lord, noueltie carries it away, For the princ.i.p.all publike audience that 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, 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, The clowne shall make them laugh (for"t, That are tickled in the lungs, or the blanke verse shall halt 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.
_Gil._ That may be, for they say an olde man Is twice a childe. (Players, _Ham._ Ile prophecie to you, hee comes to tell mee a the You say true, a monday last, t"was so indeede.
_Cor._ My lord, I haue news to tell you.
_Ham._ My Lord, I haue news 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, Either for Comedy, Tragedy, Historie, Pastorall, Pastorall, Historicall, Historicall, Comicall, [E3v]
Comicall historicall, Pastorall, Tragedy historicall: _Seneca_ cannot be too heauy, nor _Plato_ too light: For the law hath writ those are the onely men.
_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 pa.s.sing well.