Part 5 (1/2)

_Duke_ I doe beleeue you sweete, what now you speake, But what we doe determine oft we breake, For our demises stil are ouerthrowne, Our thoughts are ours, their end's none of our owne: So thinke you will no second husband wed, But die thy thoughts, when thy first Lord is dead.

_Dutchesse_ Both here and there pursue me lasting strife, If once a widdow, euer I be wife.

_Ham._ If she should breake now.

_Duke_ T'is deepely sworne, sweete leaue me here a while, My spirites growe dull, and faine I would beguile the tedi- ous time with sleepe.

_Dutchesse_ Sleepe rocke thy braine, And neuer come mischance betweene vs twaine. _exit Lady_ _Ham._ Madam, how do you like this play?

_Queene_ The Lady protests too much.

_Ham._ O but shee'le keepe her word.

_King_ Haue you heard the argument, is there no offence in it?

_Ham._ No offence in the world, poyson in iest, poison in [F4]

_King_ What do you call the name of the play? (iest.

_Ham._ Mouse-trap: mary how trapically: this play is The image of a murder done in _guyana_, _Albertus_ Was the Dukes name, his wife _Baptista_, Father, it is a knauish peece a worke: but what A that, it toucheth not vs, you and I that haue free Soules, let the galld iade wince, this is one _Lucia.n.u.s_ nephew to the King.

_Ofel._ Ya're as good as a _Chorus_ my lord.

_Ham._ I could interpret the loue you beare, if I sawe the p.o.o.pies dallying.

_Ofel._ Y'are very pleasant my lord.

_Ham._ Who I, your onlie jig-maker, why what shoulde a man do but be merry? for looke how cheerefully my mother lookes, my father died within these two houres.

_Ofel._ Nay, t'is twice two months, my Lord.

_Ham._ Two months, nay then let the diuell weare blacke, For i'le haue a sute of Sables: Iesus, two months dead, And not forgotten yet? nay then there's some Likelyhood, a gentlemans death may outliue memorie, But by my faith hee must build churches then, Or els hee must follow the olde Epit.i.the, With hoh, with ho, the hobi-horse is forgot.

_Ofel._ Your iests are keene my Lord.

_Ham._ It would cost you a groning to take them off.

_Ofel._ Still better and worse.

_Ham._ So you must take your husband, begin. Murdred Begin, a poxe, leaue thy d.a.m.nable faces and begin, Come, the croking rauen doth bellow for reuenge.

_Murd._ Thoughts blacke, hands apt, drugs fit, and time Confederate season, else no creature seeing: (agreeing.

Thou mixture rancke, of midnight weedes collected, With _Hecates_ bane thrise blasted, thrise infected, Thy naturall magicke, and dire propertie, One wholesome life vsurps immediately. _exit._ _Ham._ He poysons him for his estate. [F4v]

_King_ Lights, I will to bed.

_Cor._ The king rises, lights hoe.

_Exeunt King and Lordes._ _Ham._ What, frighted with false fires?

Then let the stricken deere goe weepe, The Hart vngalled play, For some must laugh, while some must weepe, Thus runnes the world away.

_Hor._ The king is mooued my lord.

_Hor._ I _Horatio_, i'le take the Ghosts word For more then all the coyne in _Denmarke_.

_Enter Rossencraft and Gilderstone._

_Ross._ Now my lord, how i'st with you?

_Ham._ And if the king like not the tragedy, Why then belike he likes it not perdy.

_Ross._ We are very glad to see your grace so pleasant, My good lord, let vs againe intreate (ture To know of you the ground and cause of your distempera- _Gil._ My lord, your mother craues to speake with you.

_Ham._ We shall obey, were she ten times our mother.

_Ross._ But my good Lord, shall I intreate thus much?

_Ham._ I pray will you play vpon this pipe?

_Ross._ Alas my lord I cannot.

_Ham._ Pray will you.

_Gil._ I haue no skill my Lord.

_Ham._ Why looke, it is a thing of nothing, T'is but stopping of these holes, And with a little breath from your lips, It will giue most delicate musick.

_Gil._ But this cannot wee do my Lord.

_Ham._ Pray now, pray hartily, I beseech you.

_Ros._ My lord wee cannot. (me?

_Ham._ Why how vnworthy a thing would you make of You would seeme to know my stops, you would play vpon [G1]

You would search the very inward part of my hart, mee, And diue into the secreet of my soule.

Zownds do you thinke I am easier to be pla'yd On, then a pipe? call mee what Instrument You will, though you can frett mee, yet you can not Play vpon mee, besides, to be demanded by a spunge.

_Ros._ How a spunge my Lord?

_Ham._ I sir, a spunge, that sokes vp the kings Countenance, fauours, and rewardes, that makes His liberalitie your store house: but such as you, Do the king, in the end, best seruise; For hee doth keep you as an Ape doth nuttes, In the corner of his Iaw, first mouthes you, Then swallowes you: so when hee hath need Of you, t'is but squeesing of you, And spunge, you shall be dry againe, you shall.