Part 10 (1/2)

Ros.

Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and his load too.

Ham.

It is not very strange; for my uncle is king of Denmark, and those that would make mouths at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred ducats a-piece for his picture in little. 'Sblood, there is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could find it out.

[Flourish of trumpets within.]

Guil.

There are the players.

Ham.

Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands, come: the appurtenance of welcome is fas.h.i.+on and ceremony: let me comply with you in this garb; lest my extent to the players, which I tell you must show fairly outward, should more appear like entertainment than yours. You are welcome: but my uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived.

Guil.

In what, my dear lord?

Ham.

I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.

[Enter Polonius.]

Pol.

Well be with you, gentlemen!

Ham.

Hark you, Guildenstern;--and you too;--at each ear a hearer: that great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling clouts.

Ros.

Happily he's the second time come to them; for they say an old man is twice a child.

Ham.

I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players; mark it.--You say right, sir: o' Monday morning; 'twas so indeed.

Pol.

My lord, I have news to tell you.

Ham.

My lord, I have news to tell you. When Roscius was an actor in Rome,-- Pol.

The actors are come hither, my lord.

Ham.

Buzz, buzz!

Pol.

Upon my honour,-- Ham.

Then came each actor on his a.s.s,-- Pol.

The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or poem unlimited: Seneca cannot be too heavy nor Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are the only men.

Ham.

O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou!

Pol.

What treasure had he, my lord?

Ham.

Why-- 'One fair daughter, and no more, The which he loved pa.s.sing well.'

Pol.

[Aside.] Still on my daughter.

Ham.

Am I not i' the right, old Jephthah?

Pol.

If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I love pa.s.sing well.

Ham.

Nay, that follows not.

Pol.

What follows, then, my lord?

Ham.

Why-- 'As by lot, G.o.d wot,'