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Ham. Ay, sir, but 'While the grass grows'

-the proverb is something musty.

Enter Players with recorders.

O, the recorders: let me see one. To withdraw with you:-Why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toil ?

Guil. O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly.

Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe?

Guil. My lord, I cannot.

Ham. I pray you.

Guil. Believe me, I cannot.

Ham. I do beseech you.

Guil. I know no touch of it, my lord.

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Ham. It is as easy as lying: govern these ventages with your finger and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops. Guil. But these cannot I command to any

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utterance of harmony; I have not the skill Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me. You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass: and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. Why do you think that I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon

me.

Enter POLONIUS.

God bless you, sir!

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Pol. My lord, the queen would speak with you, and presently.

Ham. Do you see yonder cloud, that's almost in shape of a camel?

Pol. By the mass, and 't is like a camel, indeed.

Ham. Methinks, it is like a weasel.
Pol. It is backed like a weasel.

Ham. Or, like a whale ?

Pol. Very like a whale.

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Ham. Then will I come to my mother by-and-by.

-They fool me to the top of my bent. -I will

come by-and-by.

Pol. I will say so.

[Exit.

Ham. By-and-by is easily said.-Leave me,

friends.

[Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN,

HORATIO, &c.

'Tis now the very witching time of night 400 When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes

out

Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot

blood,

And do such bitter business as the day

Would quake to look on. Soft now, to my

Mother :

heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom; Let me be cruel, not unnatural, I will speak daggers to her, but use none. My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites: How in my words soever she be shent, To give them seals never, my soul, consent! [Exit.

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SCENE III.- A Room in the Same.

Enter KING, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN. King. I like him not; nor stands it safe with

us

To let his madness range. Therefore, prepare you:
I your commission will forthwith despatch,
And he to England shall along with you.
The terms of our estate may not endure
Hazard so dangerous as doth hourly grow
Out of his lunacies.

Guil.

We will ourselves provide.

Most holy and religious fear it is

To keep those many many bodies safe

That live and feed upon your majesty.

Ros. The single and peculiar life is bound, With all the strength and armour of the mind, To keep itself from noyance; but much more That spirit upon whose weal depends and rests The lives of many. The cease of majesty Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw What's near it with it; it is a massy wheel, Fixed on the summit of the highest mount, To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things Are mortised and adjoined ; which, when it falls, Each small annexment, petty consequence, Attends the boisterous ruin.

Never alone

Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.

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King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy

voyage;

For we will fetters put upon this fear,

Which now goes too free-footed.

Ros., Guil.

We will haste us.

[Exeunt ROSENCrantz and GuildENSTERN

Enter POLONIUS.

Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet : Behind the arras I'll convey myself,

To hear the process: I'll warrant, she'll tax him

home;

And, as you said, and wisely was it said,

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"T is meet that some more audience than a mother, Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear

The speech, of vantage.

I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,

And tell you what I know.
King.

Fare you well, my liege :

Thanks, dear my lord.

[Exit POLONIUS.

O! my offence is rank, it smells to heaven:
It hath the primal eldest curse upon 't,

A brother's murder! - Pray can I not;
Though inclination be as sharp as will,
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
And, like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snow?

mercy,

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Whereto serves

But to confront the visage of offence?
And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force, -
To be forestalléd, ere we come to fall,
Or pardoned, being down? Then, I'll look up :
My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer

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