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now, was and is, to hold, as ‘twere, the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own image, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now, this overdone, or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the censure of the which one must in your allowance, o’erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players that I have seen play,—and heard others praise, and that highly,—not to speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of nature’s journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.

       I Player.

       I hope we have reform’d that indifferently with us, sir.

       Ham. O, reform it altogether. And let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them: for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too, though in the meantime some necessary question of the play be then to be considered: that’s villanous and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it. Go make you ready.

       [Exeunt Players.]

       [Enter Polonius, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern.]

       How now, my lord! will the king hear this piece of work?

       Pol.

       And the queen too, and that presently.

       Ham.

       Bid the players make haste.

       [Exit Polonius.]

       Will you two help to hasten them?

       Ros. and Guil.

       We will, my lord.

       [Exeunt Ros. and Guil.]

       Ham.

       What, ho, Horatio!

       [Enter Horatio.]

       Hor.

       Here, sweet lord, at your service.

       Ham.

       Horatio, thou art e’en as just a man

       As e’er my conversation cop’d withal.

       Hor.

       O, my dear lord,—

       Ham.

       Nay, do not think I flatter;

       For what advancement may I hope from thee,

       That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits,

       To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter’d?

       No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp;

       And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee

       Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?

       Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice,

       And could of men distinguish, her election

       Hath seal’d thee for herself: for thou hast been

       As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing;

       A man that Fortune’s buffets and rewards

       Hast ta’en with equal thanks: and bles’d are those

       Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled

       That they are not a pipe for Fortune’s finger

       To sound what stop she please. Give me that man

       That is not passion’s slave, and I will wear him

       In my heart’s core, ay, in my heart of heart,

       As I do thee.—Something too much of this.—

       There is a play tonight before the king;

       One scene of it comes near the circumstance,

       Which I have told thee, of my father’s death:

       I pr’ythee, when thou see’st that act a-foot,

       Even with the very comment of thy soul

       Observe mine uncle: if his occulted guilt

       Do not itself unkennel in one speech,

       It is a damned ghost that we have seen;

       And my imaginations are as foul

       As Vulcan’s stithy. Give him heedful note;

       For I mine eyes will rivet to his face;

       And, after, we will both our judgments join

       In censure of his seeming.

       Hor.

       Well, my lord:

       If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing,

       And scape detecting, I will pay the theft.

       Ham.

       They are coming to the play. I must be idle:

       Get you a place.

       [Danish march. A flourish. Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia,

       Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and others.]

       King.

       How fares our cousin Hamlet?

       Ham. Excellent, i’ faith; of the chameleon’s dish: I eat the air, promise-crammed: you cannot feed capons so.

       King. I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet; these words are not mine.

       Ham. No, nor mine now. My lord, you play’d once i’ the university, you say? [To Polonius.]

       Pol.

       That did I, my lord, and was accounted a good actor.

       Ham.

       What did you enact?

       Pol. I did enact Julius Caesar; I was kill’d i’ the Capitol; Brutus killed me.

       Ham. It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there.—Be the players ready?

       Ros.

       Ay, my lord; they stay upon your patience.

       Queen.

       Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me.

       Ham.

       No, good mother, here’s metal more attractive.

       Pol.

       O, ho! do you mark that? [To the King.]

       Ham.

       Lady, shall I lie in your lap?

       [Lying down at Ophelia’s feet.]

       Oph.

       No, my lord.

       Ham.

       I mean, my head upon your lap?

       Oph.

       Ay, my lord.

       Ham.

       Do you think I meant country matters?

       Oph.

       I think nothing, my lord.

       Ham.

       That’s a fair thought to lie between maids’ legs.

       Oph.

       What is, my lord?

       Ham.

       Nothing.

       Oph.

       You are merry, my lord.

       Ham.

       Who, I?

       Oph.

       Ay, my lord.

       Ham. O, your only jig-maker! What should a man do but be merry? for look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within ‘s two hours.

       Oph.

       Nay, ‘tis twice two months, my lord.

       Ham. So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for I’ll have a suit of sables. O heavens! die two months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then

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