top of question, and are most tyrannically clapped for 't: these are now the fashion; and so be-rattle the common stages (so they call them), that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goose quills, and dare scarce come thither. 319 Ham. What, are they children? who maintains them? how are they escoted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can sing? will they not say afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common players (as it is like most, if their means are no better), their writers do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their own succession? 325 Ros. Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and the nation holds it no sin, to tarre them to controversy: there was, for a while, no money bid for argument, unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question. Ham. Is't possible ? Guil. O, there has been much throwing about of brains. 330 Ros. Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and his load too. Ham. It is not strange; for mine uncle is king of Denmark; and those that would make mowes at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, an hundred ducats apiece, for his picture in little. There is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could find it out. [Flourish of trumpets within. 338 Guil. There are the players. Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands. Come the appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony: let me comply with you in this garb; lest my extent to the players, which, I tell you, must shew 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? 345 Ham. I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a hernsaw. Enter POLONIUS. Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen! 349 Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern-and you too ;-at each ear a hearer; that great baby you see there is not yet out of his swathing clouts. Ros. Happily, he's the second time come to them; for, they say an old man is twice a child. 354 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. Buz, buz! Pol. Upon mine honour Ham. Then came each actor on his ass 360 364 Pol. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastorical-comical, historical-pastoral, tragicalhistorical, 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. 370 Ham. O Jephthah, judge of Israel 12-what a treasure hadst thou! Pol. What a treasure had he, my lord? Ham. Why, One fair daughter, and no more, The which he loved passing well. Pol. [Aside.] Still on my daughter. Ham. Am I not i' the right, old Jephthah? 375 Pol. If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I love passing well. Ham. Nay, that follows not. Pol. What follows then, my lord? 380 Ham. Why, 'As by lot, God wot,' and then you know, 385 'It came to pass, as most like it was.' The first row of the pious chanson will shew you more: for look, where my abridgment comes. Enter Four or Five Players. 388 You are welcome, masters; welcome, all :-I am glad to see thee well:-welcome, good friends.-O, my old friend! Thy face is valanced since I saw thee last; comest thou to beard me in Denmark ?-What! my young lady and mistress! By-'r-lady, your ladyship is nearer heaven, than when I saw you last, by the altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the ring.-Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en to 't like French falconers, fly at anything we see: we'll have a speech straight: come, give us a taste of your quality; come, a passionate speech. First Play. What speech, my lord? 398 Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once-but it was never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas caviare to the general but it was (as I received it, and others, whose judgments, in such matters, cried in the top of mine) an excellent play; well digested in the scenes; set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember, one said, there were no sallets in the lines, to make the matter savoury; nor no matter in the phrase that might indict the author of affectation; but called it, an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One chief speech in it I chiefly loved: 'twas Æneas' tale to Dido; and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of Priam's slaughter: if it live in your memory, begin at this line; let me see, let me see ;— The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast, 413 It is not so; it begins with Pyrrhus : 415 The rugged Pyrrhus-he, whose sable arms, With heraldry more dismal; head to foot 420 Pol. My lord, well spoken; with good accent, and good On Mars's armours, forg'd for proof eterne, 455 Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods, Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel, And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven, 460 Pol. This is too long. Ham. It shall to the barber's, with your beard.-Prithee, say on-he's for a jig or a tale, or he sleeps:-say on; come to Hecuba. 465 First Play. But who, O who, had seen the mobled queen Ham. The mobled queen? Pol. That's good: mobled queen is good. First Play. Run barefoot up and down, threat'ning the flame With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head, 470 Where late the diadem stood; and, for a robe, About her lank and all o'er-teemed loins, A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up ; Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd, Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven, Pol. Look, whether he has not turn'd his colour, and has tears in his eyes.-Pray you, no more. 484 Ham. 'Tis well; I'll have thee speak out the rest soon.-Good my lord, will you see the players well bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used; for they are the abstracts and brief chronicles of the time: after your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live. Pol. My lord, I will use them according to their desert. 490 |