LITMIR.BIZ

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Ham.

       Here’s the commission: read it at more leisure.

       But wilt thou bear me how I did proceed?

       Hor.

       I beseech you.

       Ham.

       Being thus benetted round with villanies,—

       Or I could make a prologue to my brains,

       They had begun the play,—I sat me down;

       Devis’d a new commission; wrote it fair:

       I once did hold it, as our statists do,

       A baseness to write fair, and labour’d much

       How to forget that learning; but, sir, now

       It did me yeoman’s service. Wilt thou know

       The effect of what I wrote?

       Hor.

       Ay, good my lord.

       Ham.

       An earnest conjuration from the king,—

       As England was his faithful tributary;

       As love between them like the palm might flourish;

       As peace should still her wheaten garland wear

       And stand a comma ‘tween their amities;

       And many such-like as’s of great charge,—

       That, on the view and know of these contents,

       Without debatement further, more or less,

       He should the bearers put to sudden death,

       Not shriving-time allow’d.

       Hor.

       How was this seal’d?

       Ham.

       Why, even in that was heaven ordinant.

       I had my father’s signet in my purse,

       Which was the model of that Danish seal:

       Folded the writ up in the form of the other;

       Subscrib’d it: gave’t the impression; plac’d it safely,

       The changeling never known. Now, the next day

       Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent

       Thou know’st already.

       Hor.

       So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to’t.

       Ham.

       Why, man, they did make love to this employment;

       They are not near my conscience; their defeat

       Does by their own insinuation grow:

       ‘Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes

       Between the pass and fell incensed points

       Of mighty opposites.

       Hor.

       Why, what a king is this!

       Ham.

       Does it not, thinks’t thee, stand me now upon,—

       He that hath kill’d my king, and whor’d my mother;

       Popp’d in between the election and my hopes;

       Thrown out his angle for my proper life,

       And with such cozenage—is’t not perfect conscience

       To quit him with this arm? and is’t not to be damn’d

       To let this canker of our nature come

       In further evil?

       Hor.

       It must be shortly known to him from England

       What is the issue of the business there.

       Ham.

       It will be short: the interim is mine;

       And a man’s life is no more than to say One.

       But I am very sorry, good Horatio,

       That to Laertes I forgot myself;

       For by the image of my cause I see

       The portraiture of his: I’ll court his favours:

       But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me

       Into a towering passion.

       Hor.

       Peace; who comes here?

       [Enter Osric.]

       Osr.

       Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.

       Ham.

       I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this waterfly?

       Hor.

       No, my good lord.

       Ham. Thy state is the more gracious; for ‘tis a vice to know him. He hath much land, and fertile: let a beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the king’s mess; ‘tis a chough; but, as I say, spacious in the possession of dirt.

       Osr. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I should impart a thing to you from his majesty.

       Ham. I will receive it with all diligence of spirit. Put your bonnet to his right use; ‘tis for the head.

       Osr.

       I thank your lordship, t’is very hot.

       Ham.

       No, believe me, ‘tis very cold; the wind is northerly.

       Osr.

       It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.

       Ham.

       Methinks it is very sultry and hot for my complexion.

       Osr. Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,—as ‘twere—I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head. Sir, this is the matter,—

       Ham.

       I beseech you, remember,—

       [Hamlet moves him to put on his hat.]

       Osr. Nay, in good faith; for mine ease, in good faith. Sir, here is newly come to court Laertes; believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent differences, of very soft society and great showing: indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card or calendar of gentry; for you shall find in him the continent of what part a gentleman would see.

       Ham. Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you;—though, I know, to divide him inventorially would dizzy the arithmetic of memory, and yet but yaw neither, in respect of his quick sail. But, in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of great article, and his infusion of such dearth and rareness as, to make true diction of him, his semblable is his mirror, and who else would trace him, his umbrage, nothing more.

       Osr.

       Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him.

       Ham. The concernancy, sir? why do we wrap the gentleman in our more rawer breath?

       Osr.

       Sir?

       Hor. Is’t not possible to understand in another tongue? You will do’t, sir, really.

       Ham.

       What imports the nomination of this gentleman?

       Osr.

       Of Laertes?

       Hor.

       His purse is empty already; all’s golden words are spent.

       Ham.

       Of him, sir.

       Osr.

       I know, you are not ignorant,—

       Ham. I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you did, it would not much approve me.—Well, sir.

       Osr.

       You are not ignorant of what excellence

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