So soon did lose his seat, and all at once,
As in this king.

Ely. We're blessed in the change.

Cant. Hear him but reason in divinity,
And, all admiring, with an inward wish
You would desire the king were made a prelate.
Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs,
You'd say, it had been all in all his study.
List his discourse of war, and you shall hear
A fearful battle render'd you in music.
Turn him to any cause of policy,

The Gordian knot of it he will unloose
Familiar as his garter. When he speaks,
The air, a charter'd libertine, is still;
And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears,
To steal his sweet and honey'd sentences:
So that the art and practic part of life

Must be the mistress of this theoric.

Which is a wonder how his Grace should glean it,
Since his addiction was to courses vain ;

His companies unletter'd, rude, and shallow;
His hours fill'd up with riots, banquets, sports;
And never noted in him any study,

Any retirement, any sequestration

From open haunts and popularity.

Ely. The strawberry grows underneath the nettle,
And wholesome berries thrive, and ripen best,
Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality:

And so the Prince obscur'd his contemplation
Under the veil of wildness; which, no doubt,
Grew like a summer grass, fastest by night,
Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty.

Cant. It must be so: for miracles are ceas'd:
And therefore we must needs admit the means,
How things are perfected.

SHAKSPEARE.

CHAPTER XIII.

HAMLET AND HORATIO.

Hor. HAIL to your lordship! Ham. I am glad to see you well. Horatio! or I do forget myself.

Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. Ham. Sir, my good friend: I'll change that name with

you:

And what makes you from Wittenberg, Horatio?

Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord.
Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so!

Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,
To make it truster of your own report
Against yourself. I know you are no truant;
But what is your affair in Elsinoor?

We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.

Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funʼral. Ham. I pray thee do not mock me, fellow-student;

I think it was to see my mother's wedding.

Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon.

Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio; the funeral baked meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. Would I had met my direst foe in Heav'n,

Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!

My father

Methinks I see my father.

Hor. Oh where, my lord?

Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.

Hor. I saw him once, he was a goodly king.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,

I shall not look upon his like again.

Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
Ham. Saw! who?

Hor. My lord, the king your father!

Ham. The king my father!

Hor. Season your admiration but a while

With an attentive ear; till I deliver,

Upon the witness of these gentlemen,

This marvel to you.

Ham. For Heav'n's love, let me hear!

Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen, Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,

In the dead waste and middle of the night,

Been thus encounter'd: A figure like your father,
Arm'd at all points exactly, cap-à-pié,

Appears before them, and with solemn march
Goes slow and stately by them; thrice he walk'd
By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes,
Within his truncheon's length; while they (distill'd
Almost to jelly with th' effect of fear)

Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me
In dreadful secrecy impart they did,

And I with them the third night kept the watch:
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,

Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The apparition comes. I knew your father,

These hands are not more like.

Ham. But where was this?

Hor. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd. Нат. Did you not speak to it?

Hor. My lord, I did;

But answer made it none.

Yet once methought

It lifted up its head, and did address

Itself to motion, like as it would speak,

But even then the morning cock crew loud
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
And vanish'd from our sight.

Ham. 'Tis very strange.

Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true :

And we did think it writ down in our duty,

To let you know of it.

Ham. Indeed, indeed, Sir, but this troubles me.

Hold you the watch to night?

Mar. and Ber. We do, my lord.

Ham. Arm'd, say you?

Hor. Arm'd, my lord.

Ham. From top to toe?

Hor. My lord, from head to foot.

Ham.

Then saw not you his face?

Hor. O yes, my lord: he wore his beaver up.
Ham. What, look'd he frowningly?

Hor. A count'nance more in sorrow than in anger.

Ham.

Pale, or red?

Hor. Nay, very pale.
Ham.

And fix'd his eyes upon you?

Hor. Most constantly.

Ham. I would I had been there!

Hor. It would have much amaz'd

Ham. Very like. Staid it long?

you.

Hor. While one with mod'rate haste might tell a hundred.

Ham. His beard was grisled ?-no.

Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life,

A sable silver'd.

Ham. I'll watch to night; perchance 'twill walk again.
Hor. I warrant you it will.

Ham. If it assumes my noble father's person,
I'll speak to it, though Hell itself should gape,
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you,
If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,
Let it be ten'ble in your silence still:
And whatsoever shall befal to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue:
I will requite your love: so fare ye well.
Upon the platform 'twixt eleven and twelve
I'll visit you.

SHAKSPEARE.

CHAPTER XIV.

BRUTUS AND CASSIUS.

Cas. WILL you go see the order of the course?
Bru. Not I.

Cas. I

pray you, do.

Bru. I am not gamesome; I do lack some part Of that quick spirit that is in Antony ;

Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires:

I'll leave you.

Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late;
I have not from your eyes that gentleness,
And show of love, as I was wont to have;
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand
Over your friend that loves you.

Bru. Cassius,

Be not deceived: if I have veil'd my look
I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am

Of late with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself,

Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviour;
But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd,
Among which number, Cassius, be you one;
Nor construe any farther my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,

Forgets the show of love to other men.

Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion; By means whereof, this breast of mine hath buried Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?

Bru.

No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself,

But by reflection from some other thing.
Cas. 'Tis just.

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
That you have no such mirror as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,

That you might see your shadow. I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome
(Except immortal Cæsar), speaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.

Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,

That you would have me seek into myself

For that which is not in me?

Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepar'd to hear; And since you know you cannot seek yourself

So well as by reflection, I, your glass,

Will modestly discover to yourself

That of yourself which yet you know not of.

And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus :
Were I a common laugher, or did use
To stale with ordinary oaths my love
To ev'ry new protestor; if you know,
That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after scandal them; or if you know,
That I profess myself in banquetting
To all the rout; then hold me dangerous.