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Make us again count o'er, ere love be done!
But, woe is me, you are fo fick of late,

So far from cheer, and from your former ftate,
That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,
Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing muft:
For women fear too much, even as they love.
And women's fear and love hold quantity;
In neither ought, or in extremity.

Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know;
And as my love is fiz'd, my fear is fo.

Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;
Where little fears grow great,great love grows there.
P. King. Faith, I must leave thee, love, and short-
ly too;

My operant powers their functions leave to do:
And thou fhalt live in this fair world behind,
Honour'd, belov'd: and, haply, one as kind
For husband fhalt thou-

PQueen. O, confound the reft!

Such love must needs be treason in my
In fecond husband let me be accurft!

breaft:

None wed the second, but who kill'd the first.
Ham. That's wormwood.

P. Queen, The inftances, that fecond marriage

move,

Are base respects of thrift, but none of love:
A fecond time I kill my husband dead,
When fecond husband kiffes me in bed.

P. King. I do believe, you think what now you
speak:

But, what we do determine, oft we break.
Purpose is but the flave to memory;

Of violent birth, but poor validity:

Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree;

But

But fall, unfhaken, when they mellow be.
Moft neceffary 'tis, that we forget

Το pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt :
What to ourselves in paffion we propose,
The paffion ending, doth the purpose lose.
The violence of either grief or joy,

Their own enactures with themselves destroy:
Where joy moft revels, grief doth most lament:
Grief joys, joy grieves, on flender accident.
This world is not for aye; nor 'tis not strange,
That even our loves fhould with our fortunes change
For 'tis a question left us still yet to prove,

Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.
The great man down, you mark, his favourite flies
The poor advanc'd, makes friends of enemies.
And hitherto doth love on fortune tend:
For who not needs, shall never lack a friend;
And who in want a hollow friend doth try,
Directly feasons him his enemy.

But, orderly to end where I begun,-
Our wills, and fates do so contrary run,
That our devices ftill are overthrown;

Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own:
So think thou wilt no fecond husband wed;
But die thy thoughts, when thy first lord is dead.
P. Queen. Nor earth to give me food, nor hea-
ven light!

Sport, and repofe, lock from me, day and night!
To defperation turn my trust and hope!
An anchor's cheer in prifon be my scope!
Each oppofite, that blanks the face of joy,
Meet what I would have well, and it destroy !
Both here, and hence, purfue me lafting ftrife,
If, once a widow, ever I be wife!

Ham.

Ham. If the fhould break it now,— [To Oph.
P. King. 'Tis deeply fworn.

here awhile;

Sweet, leave me

My fpirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile

The tedious day with fleep.

P. Queen. Sleep rock thy brain.

[Sleeps.

And never come mifchance betwixt us twain![Exit. Ham. Madam how like you this play?

Queen. The lady doth protest too much,methinks. Ham. O, but she'll keep her word.

King. Have you heard the argument? is there no offence in't?

Ham. No, no, they do but jeft, poifon in jeft; no offence i' the 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 duke's name; his wife Baptista: you shall fee anon; 'tis a knavish piece of work: But what of that? your majefty, and we that have free fouls, it touches us not: the gall'd jade wince, our withers are unwrung.

Enter LUCIANUS.

Let

This is one Lucianus, nephew to the duke. Oph. You are as good as a chorus, my lord. Ham. I could interpret between you and your ove, If I could fee the puppets dallying. Oph. You are keen, my lord, you are keen. Ham. It would coft you a groaning, to take off my edge.

Oph. Still better and worse.

Ham. So you mistake your husbands.

Begin,

Begin, murderer. Leave thy damnable faces, and begin.

Come-The croaking raven doth bellow for revenge, Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;

Confederate feafon, elfe no creature seeing;
Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
With Hecat's ban thrice blafted, thrice infected,
Thy natural magic, and dire property,

On wholesome life ufurp immediately.

[Pours the poifon into his ears, Ham. He poisons him i' the garden for his estate. His name's Gonzago! the ftory is extant, and written in very choice Italian: you fhall fee anon, how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife, Oph. The king rises.

Ham. What frighted with falfe fire!
Queen. How fares my lord?

Pol. Give o'er the play.

King. Give me fome light :-away!

All Lights, lights, lights!

[Exeunt All but HAMLET, and HORATIO,

Ham. Why, let the strucken deer go weep,
The hart ungalled play:

For fome must watch, while fome must sleep;
Thus runs the world away.-

Would not this, fir, and a forest of feathers (if the reft of my fortunes turn Turk with me), with two Provencial roses on my rayed shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, fir?

Hor. Half a share.

Ham. A whole one, I.

For thou doft know, O Damon dear,
This realm difmantled was

Of Jove himself; and now reigns here
A very, very-peacock.

Hor. You might have rhym'd.

Ham. O good Horatio, I'll take the ghoft's word for a thousand pound.

Hor. Very well, my lord.

Did'ft perceive?

Ham. Upon the talk of the poifoning-
Hor. I did very well note him.

Ham. Ah, ha!-Come, fome mufick: come, the recorders.

For if the king like not the comedy,
Why then, belike, he likes it not, perdy.-

Enter ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN.

Come, fome mufick.

Guil. Good, my lord, vouchfafe me a word

with you,

Ham. Sir, a whole history.

Guil. The king, fir

Ham. Ay, fir, what of him?

Guil. Is, in his retirement, marvellous diftemHam. With drink, fir?

Guil. No, my lord, with choler.

[per'd.

Ham. Your wisdom would fhew itself more richer, to fignify this to the doctor; for, me to put him to his purgation, would, perhaps, plunge him into more choler.

Guil. Good my lord, put your difcourfe into fome frame, and start not fo wildly from my affair. Ham. I am tame, fir ;-pronounce.

Guil. The queen, your mother, in moft great affliction of fpirit, hath fent me to you. Ham. You are welcome.

Guil. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of

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