The Tragedie of Macbeth.

But I must also feel it as a man;
I cannot but remember such things were
That were most precious to me: Did heauen looke on,
And would not take their part? Sinfull Macduff,
They were all strooke for thee: Naught that I am,
Not for their owne demerits, but for mine
 Fell flaughter on their foules: Heauen reft them now.

Mal. Be this the Whetstone of your fword, let grieſe
Convert to anger: blunt not the heart, enrage it.

Macd. O I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And Braggart with my tongue. But gentle Heauens,
Cut short all intermiffion: Front to Front,
Bring thou this Fiend of Scotland, and my ſelfe
Within my Swords length fet him, if he ſcape
Heauen forgiue him too.

Mal. This time goes manly:
Come go we to the King, our Power is ready,
Our lacke is nothing but our leaue. Macbeth
Is ripe for ſhaking, and the Powres aboue
Put on their Instruments: Receiue what cheere you may,
The Night is long, that neuer findes the Day. Exeunt

Aetus Quintus.

Scena Prima.

Enter a Doctor of Physicke, and a Wayting
Gentlewoman.

Dott. I haue too Nights watch'd with you, but can
perceiue no truth in your report. When was it ſhee laſt
walk'd?

Gent. Since his Maiety went into the Field, I haue
feene her rife from her bed, throw her Night-Gown vpon
her, vnlocke her Cloſet, take ſoorth paper, ſolde it,
write vpon't, read it, afterwards Seale it, and againe
returne to bed; yet all this while in a moſt ſaſt ſleepe.

Dott. A great perturbation in Nature, to receyue at
once the benefit of ſleep, and do the effects of watching.
In this flumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other
actual performances, what (at any time) haue you heard
her ſay?

Gent. That Sir, which I will not report after her.

Dott. You may to me, and 'tis moſt meet you ſhould.

Gent. Neither to you, nor any one, hauing no witneſſe
to confirme my ſpeech. Enter Lady, with a Taper.

Lo you, heere ſhe comes : This is her very guſe, and vpon my life ſaſt ſleepe: obſerue her, ſtand close.

Dott. How came the by that light?

Gent. Why it flood by her: ſhe ha's light by her con-
tinually, 'tis her command.

Dott. You ſee her eyes are open.

Gent. I but their ſenſe are ſhut.

Dott. What is it ſhe do's now?

Looke how ſhe rubbes her hands.

Gent. It is an accuitom'd action with her, to ſeeue
thus waſhing her hands: I haue knowne we continue in
this a quarter of an houre.

Lad. Yet heere's a ſpor.

Dott. Heark, ſhe ſpeaks, I will ſet downe what comes
from her, to ſatisſe my remembrance the more ſtrongly.

La. Out Damned spot: out I ſay. One: Two: Why
then 'tis time to doo't: Hell is murky. Fye, my Lord, ſie,
a Souldier, and affear'd what need we ſeare? who knowes
it, when none can call our powre to accompt: yet who

would haue thought the olde man to haue had so much
blood in him.

Dott. Do you marke that?

Lad. The Thane of Fife, had a wife: where is the now?
What will theſe hands ne're be cleane? No more o'that
my Lord, no raore o'that: you marre all with this flat-
ting.

Dott. Go too, go too:

You haue knowne what you ſhould not.

Gent. She ha's ſpoke what ſhee ſhould not, I am ſure
of that: Heauen knowes what ſhe ha's knowne.

La. Heere's the ſmell of the blood ſill: all the per-
fumes of Arabia will not ſweeten this little hand.
Oh, oh, oh..

Dott. What a ſigh is there? The hart is forely charg'd.

Gent. I would not haue ſuch a heart in my boſome,
for the dignity of the whole body.

Dott. Well, well, well.

Gent. Pray God it be fir.

Dott. This diſeafe is beyond my practice: yet I haue
knowne theſe which haue walkt in their ſleep, who haue
dyed holly in their beds.

Lad. Waſh your hands, put on your Night-Gowne,
looke not to pale: I tell you yet againe Banquo's buried,
he cannot come out on's graue.

Dott. Euen so?

Lady. To bed, to bed: there's knocking at the gate:
Come, come, come, come, giue me your hand: What's
done, cannot be vndone. To bed, to bed, to bed.

Exit Lady.

Dott. Will ſhe go now to bed?

Gent. Directly.

Dott. Foule whisp'rings are abroad: vnnaurall deeds
Do breed vnnaurall troubles: inſected mindes
To their deafe pillowes will diſcharge their Secrets:
More needs ſhe the Diuine, then the Phyſtian:
God, God forgive vs all. Looke after her,
Remoue from her the meanes of all annoyance,
And ſtill keepe eyes vpon her: So goodnight,
My minde ſhe ha's mated, and amaz'd my fight:
I thinke, but dare not ſpeake.

Gent. Good night good Doctor.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Drum and Colours. Enter Menteth, Cuthbert,
Angus, Lenox, Soldiers.

Ment. The English powre is neere, led on by Malvolio,
His Vnkle ſeyward, and the good Macduff.
Reuenges burne in them: for their deere caues
Would to the bleeding, and the grim Alarme
Excite the mortified man.

Ang. Neere Byrnan wood
Shall we well meet them, that way are they comming:
Cath. Who knowes if Donalbane be with his brother?
Len. For certaine Sir, he is not: I haue a File
Of all the Gentry; there is ſeywards Sonne,
And many vnruſe youths, that euen now
Proſteet their firſt of Manhood.

Ment. What do's the Tyrant.

Cath. Great Dunſinane he strongly Fortifies:
Some way ſhee's mad: Others, that leſer hate him,
Do call it valiant Fury, but ſer certaine

The Tragedie of Macbeth.

149

He cannot buckle his distemper'd caufe
Within the belt of Rule.

Ang. Now do's he feele

His secret Murthers ricking on his hands,
Now minutely Reuolts vpbraid his Faith-breach:
Thofe he commands, moue onely in command,
Nothing in loue : Now do's he feele his Title
Hang looke about him, like a Giants Robe
Vpon a dwarfish Theefe.

Ment. Who then ſhall blame

His pefter'd Senſes to recoyle, and ſtart,
When all that is within him, do's condemne
It ſelſe, for being there.

Cath. Well, march we on,

To giue Obedience, where'tis truly ow'd :
Meet we the Med'cine of the fickly Weale,
And with him poure we in our Countries purge,
Each drop of vs.

Lenox. Or ſo much as it needes,

To dew the Soueraigne Flower, and drowne the Weeds:
Make we our March towards Birnan. Exeunt marching.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.

Mach. Bring me no more Reports, let them flye all:
Till Byrnane wood remoue to Dunſinane,
I cannot taint with Feare. What's the Boy Malcolm?
Was he not borne of woman? The Spirits that know
All mortall Consequences, haue pronounc'd me thus:
Feare not Macbeth, no man that's borne of woman
Shall ere haue power vpon thee. Then fly false Thanes,
And mingle with the English Epicures,
The minde I ſway by, and the heart I beare,
Shall neuer fagge with doubt, nor ſhake with feare.

Enter Sermant.

The diuell amaine thee blacke, thou cream-fac'd Loone:
Where got thou that Gooſe-looke.

Ser. There is ten thouſand.

Ser. Gooſe Villaine?

Ser. Souldiers Sir.

Mach. Go pricke thy face, and ouer-red thy feare
Thou Lilly-liuer'd Soldiers, What Soldiers, Patch?
Death of thy Soule, thofe Linnen cheekes of thine
Are Counſailers to feare. What Soldiers Whay-face?

Ser. The English Force, ſo pleafe you.

Mach. Take thy face hence. Seyton, I am ſick at hart,
When I behold : Seyton, I ſay, this pufh
Will cheere me euer, or diſeate me now.
I haue liu'd long enough: my way of life
Is falne into the Scare, the yellow Leafe,
And that which ſhould accompany Old-Age,
As Honor, Loue, Obedience, Troopes of Friends,
I muſt not looke to haue: but in their ſeed,
Curſes, not lowd but deepe, Mouth-honor, breath
Which the poore heart would faine deny, and dare not.
Seyton?

Enter Seyton.

Sey. What's your gracious pleafure?

Mach. What Newes more?

Sey. All is confirm'd my Lord, which was reported,

Mach. Ile fight, till from my bones, my ſlesh be hackt.

Giu'e me my Armor.

Seyt. 'Tis not needed yet.

Mach. Ile put it on :

Send out noe Horſes, skirre the Country round,
Hang thofe that talke of Feare. Giue me mine Armor:
How do's your Patient, Doctor?

Doct. Not ſo ſicke my Lord,
As ſhe is troubled with thicke-comming Fancies
That keepe her from her reſt.

Mach. Cure of that :

Can't thou not Minifter to a minde diſeas'd,
Plucke from the Memory a rooted Sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the Braine,
And with ſome ſweet Obliuious Antidote
Cleaneſe the ſtufft boſome, of that perillous ſtuffe
Which weighes vpon the heart?

Doct. Therein the Patient
Muſt minifter to himſelſe.

Mach. Throw Phyſicke to the Dogs, Ile none of it.
Come, put mine Armour on: giue me my Staffe :

Seyton, fend out : Doctor, the Thanes flye from me.

Come ſir, diſpatch. If thou could't Doctor, caſt
The Water of my Land, finde her Difeaſe,
And purge it to a found and prifuſive Health,
I would applaud thee to the very Eccho,
That ſhould applaud againe. Pull't off I ſay,
What Rubarb, Cyme, or what Purgatiue drugge
Would ſowre theſe English hence : hear't y of them?

Doct. I my good Lord: your Royall Preparation
Makes vs heare ſomething.

Mach. Bring it after me:
I will not be affraid of Death and Bane,

Till Birnane Forreſt come to Dunſinane.
Doct. Were I from Dunſinane away, and cleere,

Profit againe ſhould hardly draw me heere. Exeunt

## Scena Quarta.

Drums and Colours. Enter Malcolm, Seyward, Macduff, Seywards Sonne, Menteith, Cathnes, "Angus, and Soldiers Marching.

Malc. Coſins, I hope the dayes are neere at hand
That Chambers will be ſafe.

Ment. We doubt it nothing.

Seyw. What wood is this before vs?

Ment. The wood of Birnane.

Malc. Let euery Souldier hew him downe a Bough,
And bear't before him, thereby ſhall we ſhadow
The numbers of our Hoaſt, and make diſcouery
Erre in report of vs.

Sold. It ſhall be done.

Sym. We learne no other, but the confident Tyrant
Keepes ſtill in Dunſinane, and will indure
Our fetting downe before.

Malc. 'Tis his maine hope:
For where there is aduantage to be giuen,
Both more and leſſe haue giuen him the Reuolt,
And none ſerue with him, but conſtrained things,
Whofe hearts are abſent too.

Mae'd. Let our iuſt Cenſures
Attend the true euent, and put we on

nn 3

Induſtrious

The Tragedie of Macbeth.

150

Induſtrious Souldierſhip.

Sey. The time approaches,
That will with due decifion make vs know
What we ſhall ſay we have, and what we owe:
Thoughts ſpeculatiue, their vnſure hopes relate,
But certaine ilſue, ſtroakes muſt arbitrate,
Towards which, aduance the warre.
Exeunt marching

## Scena Quinta.

Enter Macbeth, Seyton, & Souldiers, with,
Drum and Colours.

Mach. Hang out our Banners on the outward walls,
The Cry is ſtill, they come: our Caſtles ſtrength
Will laugh a Siedge to ſcorne: Heere let them lye,
Till Famine and the Ague eate them vp :
Were they not ſor'd with thofe that ſhould be ours,
We might haue met them darefull, beard to beard,
And beate them backward home. What is that noyſe?

A Cry within of Women.

Sey. It is the cry of women, my good Lord.

Mach. I haue almost forgot the taſte of Fears:
The time ha's beene, my ſences would haue coo'd
To heare a Night-ſhrieke, and my Fell of haire
Would at a diſmall Treatiſe rowze, and firere
As life were in't. I haue ſuſt full with horrors,
Direneſſe familiar to my ſlaughterous thoughts
Cannot once ſtart me. Wherefore was that cry?

Sey. The Queene (my Lord) is dead.

Mach. She ſhould haue dy'd hereafter;
There would haue beene a time for ſuch a word:
To morrow, and to morrow, and to morrow,
Creepes in this petty pace from day to day,
To the laſt Syllable of Recorded time :
And all our yefterdayes, haue lighted Fooles
The way to duſy death. Out, out, breeſe Candle,
Life's but a walking Shadow, a poore Player,
That fruits and frets his houre vpon the Stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a Tale
Told by an Ideor, full of ſound and ſury
Signifying nothing.
Enter a Meffenger.

Thou comſt to vſe thy Tongue : thy Story quickly.

Mef. Gracious my Lord,
I ſhould report that which I ſay I ſaw,
But know not how to doo't.

Mach. Well, ſay ſit.

Mef. As I did ſtand my watch vpon the Hill
I look'd toward Byrnanee, and anon me thought
The Wood began to moue.

Mach. Lyar, and Slaue.

Mef. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so :
Within this three Mile may you ſee it comming.
I ſay, a mouing Groue.

Mach. If thou ſpeak'st ſhlſe,
Vpon the next Tree ſhall thou hang aliue
Till Famine cling thee: If thy ſpeech be ſooth,
I care not if thou doſt for me as much.
I pull in Retolution, and begin.
To doubt th' Equinocation of the Fiend,
That lies like truth. Feare not, till Byrnanee Wood
Do come to Dunſinane, and now a Wood.

Comes toward Dunſinane. Arme, Arme, and out,
If this which he auouches, do's appeare,
There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here,
I'ginne to be a-weary of the Sun,
And with th' eſtate o'th' world were now vdon.
Ring the Alarum Bell, blow Winde, come wracke,
At least weel dye with Harneſſe on our backe.
Exeunt

## Scena Sexta.

Drumme and Colours.

Enter Malcolm, Seyward, Macduffe, and their Army,
with Bonghes.

Mal. Now neere enough:
Your leauy ſkreenes throw downe,
And ſhew like thofe you are: You (worthy Vnkle)
Shall with my Coſin your right Noble Sonne
Leade our firſt Battrell. Worthy Macduffe, and wee
Shall take vpon's what eſſe remains to do,
According to our order.

Sey. Fare you well:
Do we but finde the Tyrants power to night,
Let vs be beaten, if we cannot fight.
Mach. Make all our Trumpets ſpeak, giue the all breath
Thofe clamorous Harbingers of Blood, & Death. Exeunt

Alarm us continued.

## Scena Septima.

Enter Macbeth.

Mach. They haue tied me to a ſtake, I cannot flye,
But Beare-like I muſt fight the courſe. What's he
That was not borne of Woman? Such a one
Am I to feare, or none.

Enter young Seyward.

T. Sey. What is thy name?

Mach. Thou'lt be affraid to heare it.

T. Sey. No: though thou call'st thy ſelfe a hoter name
Then any is in hell,

Mach. My name's Macbeth.

T. Sey. The diuill himselfe could not pronounce a Title
More hatefull to mine eare.

Mach. No: nor more fearefull.

T. Sey. Thou lyeſt abhorred Tyrant, with my Sword
Ile proue the lye thou ſpeak ſt.

Fight, and young Seyward flaine.

Mach. Thou was't borne of woman;
But Swords I smile at, Weapons laughe to ſcorne,
Brandiſh'd by man that's of a Woman borne.
Exit.

Alarums. Enter Macduffe.

Mach. That way the noife is: Tyrant ſhow thy face,
If thou beeff flaine, and with no ſtroake of mine,
My Wife and Childrens Ghoſts will haunt me ſill:
I cannot ſtrike at wretched Kernes, whoſe armes
Are hyr'd to beare their Staues; either thou Macbeth,
Or eſſe my Sword with an vnbattered edge
I ſheath againe vndeeded. There thou ſhould'ſt be,
By this great clatter, one of greatest note

Seems

The Tragedie of Macbeth.

151

Seemes bruited. Let me finde him Fortune,
And more I begge not. Exit.

Alarums.

Enter Malcolm and Seyward.

Sey. This way my Lord, the Castles gently rendred:
The Tyrants people, on both sides do fight,
The Noble Thanes do brauefly in the Warre,
The day almost it selfe professes yours,
And little is to do.

Malc. We haue met with Foes
That strike beſide vs.

Sey. Enter Sir, the Castle.

Exeunt.

Alarum

Enter Macbeth.

Macb. Why should I play the Roman Foole, and dye
On mine owne sword? whiles I fee liues, the gashes
Do better vpon them.

Enter Macduffe.

Macc. Turne Hell-hound, turne.

Macb. Of all men elfe I haue auoyded thee :

But get thee backe, my foule is too much charg'd
With blood of thine already.

Macd. I haue no words,

My voice is in my Sword, thou bloodier Villaine
Then tearmes can giue thee out.

Macb. Thou looseſt labour,

Fight: Alarum

As caſe may ſt thou the intrenchant Ayre

With thy keene Sword impreſſe, as make me bleed :

Let fall thy blade on vulnerable Creſts,

I beare a charmed Life, which muſt not yeeld

To one of woman borne,

Macd. Difpaire thy Charme,

And let the Angell whom thou ſtill haſt ſeru'd
Tell thee, Macduffe was from his Mothers womb
Vntimely ript.

Macb. Accurſed be that tongue that tells mee ſo :
For it hath Cow'd my better part of man :

And be theſe Iugling Friends no more beleeu'd,

That palter with vs in a double ſence,

That keepe the word of promife to our eare,

And breake it to our hope. Ile not fight with thee.

Macd. Then yeeld thee Coward,

And liue to be the ſhew, and gaze o'th' time.

Wee'l haue thee, as our rarer Monſters are

Painted vpon a pole, and vnder-writ,

Heree may you ſee the Tyrant.

Macb. I will not yeeld

To kiffe the ground before young Malcolmſes,

And to be baited with the Rabbles curſe.

Though Byrnane wood be come to Dunſinane,

And thou oppos'd, being of no woman borne,

Yet I will try the laſt. Before my body,

I throw my warlike Shield : Lay on Macduffe,

And damn'd be him, that firſt cries hold, enough.

Exeunt fighting.

Alarums.

Enter Fighting, and Macbeth flaines.

Retreat, and Flourish. Enter with Drumme and Colours,
Malcolm, Seyward, Roffe, Thanes, & Soldiers.

Mal. I would the Friends we mifſe, were ſafe arriu'd
Sey. Some muſt go off: and yet by the ſe I fee,
So great a day as this is cheapely bought.

Mal. Macduſſe is mifſing, and your Noble Sonne.
Roffe. Your ſon my Lord, ha's paid a ſouldiers debt,
He onely ſiu'd but till he was a man,

The which no ſooner had his Proweſſe confirm'd

In the vnſhrinking ſation where he fought,
But like a man he dy'd.

Sey. Then he is dead?

Roffe. I, and brought off the field: your cauſe of ſorrow
Muſt not be meaſur'd by his worth, for then
It hath no end.

Sey. Had he his hurts before ?

Roffe. I, on the Front.

Sey. Why then, God's Soldier be he :
Had Ias many Sonnes, as I haue haires,
I would not wifh them to a fairer death:
And ſo his Knell is knoll'd.

Mal. Hee's worth more ſorrow,
And that Ile ſpend for him.

Sey. He's worth no more,
They ſay he parted well, and paid his ſcore,

And ſo God be with him. Here comes newer comfort.

Enter Macduffe with Macbeths head.

Macd. Haile King, for ſo thou art.

Behold where ſtands

Th' Vſurpers curſed head : the time is free :

I fee thee compaſt with thy Kingdomes Pearle,

That ſpeake my ſalutation in their minds :

Whof voyces I deſire alowd with mine.

Haile King of Scotland.

All. Haile King of Scotland.

Flourish.

Mal. We ſhall not ſpend a large expence of time,
Before we reckon with your ſeuerall loues,

And make vs euen with you. My Thanes and Kinſmen

Henceforth be Earles, the firſt that euer Scotland

In ſuch an Honor nam'd: What's more to do,

Which would be planted newly with the time,

As calling home our exil'd Friends abroad,
That fled the Snares of watchfull Tyranny,

Producing forth the cruell Minifters

Of this dead Butcher, and his Fiend-like Queene ;

Who (as 'tis thought) by ſelfe and violent hands,

Tooke off her life. This, and what needfull elfe

That call's vpon vs, by the Grace of Grace,

We will performe in meaſure, time, and place :

So thanks to all at once, and to each one,

Whom weDUite, to ſee vs Crown'd at Scone.

Flourish.

Exeunt Omnes.

FINIS.

THE TRAGEDIE OF
HAMLET, Prince of Denmark.

Actus Primus. Scena Prima.

Enter Barnardo and Francifco two Centinels.

Barnardo.

Ho's there?

Fran. Nay anſwer me: Stand & vnfold your ſelfe.

Bar. Long liue the King.

Fran. Barnardo?

Bar. He.

Fran. You come moſt carefully vpon your houre.

Bar. 'Tis now ſtrook twelue, get thee to bed Francifco.

Fran. For this releefe much thankes: 'Tis bitter cold,
And I am ſicke at heart.

Barn. Haue you had quiet Guard?

Fran. Not a Mauſe stirring.

Barn. Well, goodnight. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, the Rivals of my Watch, bid them make haſt.

Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Fran. I thinke I heare them. Stand : who's there?

Hor. Friends to this ground.

Mar. And Leige-men to the Dane.

Fran. Giue you good night.

Mar. O farwel honesſt Soldier, who hath relieu'd you?

Fra. Barnardo ha's my place: giue you goodnight.

Exit Fran.

Mar. Holla Barnardo.

Bar. Say, what is Horatio there?

Hor. A peecce of him.

Bar. Welcome Horatio, welcome good Marcellus.

Mar. What, ha's this thing appear'd againe to night.

Bar. Ihaue ſeene nothing.

Mar. Horatio faies, 'tis but our Fantafie,
And will not let beleefe take hold of him
Touching this dreaded fight, twice ſeene of vs,
Therefore I haue intreated him along
With vs, to watch the minutes of this Night,
That if againe this Apparition come,
He may approue our eyes, and ſpeake to it.

Hor. Tuff, tuff, 'twill not appeare.

Bar. Sit downe a-while,

And let vs once againe affaile your eares,
That are ſo fortified against our Story,
What we two Nights haue ſeene.

Hor. Well, fit we downe,

And let vs heare Barnardo ſpeake of this.

Barn. Last night of all,

When yond fame Starre that's Westward from the Pole
Had made his courteillume that part of Heauen

Where now it burnes, Marcellus and my ſelfe,
The Bell then beating one.

Mar. Peace, breake thee of:

Enter the Ghoſt.

Looke where it comes againe.

Barn. In the fame figure, like the King that's dead.

Mar. Thou art a Scholler; ſpeake to it Horatio.

Barn. Lookes it not like the King? Marke it Horatio.

Hora. Moſt like: It harrowes me with ſear & wonder.

Barn. It would be ſpoke too.

Mar. Queſtion it Horatio.

Hor. What art thou that ſurp? At this time of night,
Together with that Faire and Warlike forme
In which the Maieſty of buried Denmarke

Did sometimes march: By Heauen I charge thee ſpeake.

Mar. It is offended.

Barn. See, it ſtalkes away.

Hor. Stay: ſpeake; ſpeake: I Charge thee, ſpeake.

Exit the Ghoſt.

Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not anſwer.

Barn. How now Horatio? You tremble & look pale:
Is not this ſomething more then Fantafie?

What thinke you on't?

Hor. Before my God, I might not this beleefe
Without the ſenſible and true auouch
Of mine owne eyes.

Mar. Is it not like the King ?

Hor. As thou art to thy ſelfe,
Such was the very Armour he had on,
When tli' Ambitious Norwey combatted:
So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle
He ſmot the ſledded Pollax on the Icc.

'Tis ſtrange.

Mar. Thus twice before, and inſt at this dead houre,
With Marcelli ſtalke, hath he gone by our Watch.

Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know not:
But in the groſſe and ſcope of my Opinion,
This boades some ſtrange eruption to our State.

Mar. Good now fit downe, & tell me he that knowes
Why this fame ſtrict and moſt obferuant Watch,
So nightly toyles the ſubieſt of the Land,
And why ſuch dayly Caſt of Brazon Cannon
And Forraigne Mart for Implements of warre:
Why ſuch impreſſe of Ship-wrights, whole ſore Taske
Do's not diuide the Sunday from the weeke,
What might be toward, that this ſweaty haſt
Doth make the Night ioynt-Labourer with the day :
Who is't that can inſorme me?

Hor. That can I,

Ae.

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

At least the whisper goes so: Our last King,
Whose Image even but now appear'd to vs,
Was (as you know) by Fortinbras of Norway,
(Thereto prick'd on by a moſt emulate Pride)
Dar'd to the Combate. In which, our Valiant Hamlet,
(For this fide of our knowne world eſteem'd him)
Did flay this Fortinbras : who by a Seal'd Compact,
Well ratified by Law, and Heraldrie,
Did forfeite (with his life) all those his Lands
Which he flood ſeiz'd on, to the Conqueror :
A gainſt the which, a Moity competent
Was gaged by our King: which had return'd
To the Inheritance of Fortinbras,
Had he bin Vanquifher, as by the fame Cou'nant
And carriage of the Article defigne,
His ſell to Hamlet. Now fir, young Fortinbras,
Of vnimproued Mettle, hot and full,
Hath in the skirts of Norway, heere and there,
Shark'd vp a Lift of Landleſe Reſoſures,
For Foode and Diet, to ſome Enterprize
That hath a ſtomacke in't: which is no other
(And it doth well appear)e vnto our State)
But to recover of vs by ſtrong hand
And termes Compulſation, thoſe forefaid Lands
So by his Father Loſt: and this (I take it)
Is the maine Motive of our Preparations,
The Source of this our Watch, and the cheeſe head
Of this poſt-haſt, and Romage in the Land.

Enter Ghoſt againe.

But ſoft, behold: Loe, where it comes againe :
Ile croſſe it, though it blaſt me. Stay Illuſion :
If thou haſt any ſound, or vſe of Voyce,
Speake to me. If there be any good thing to be done,
That may to thee do eafe, and grace to me; ſpeak to me.
If thou art priny to thy Countries Fate
(Which happily foreknowing may auoyd) Oh ſpeake.
Or, if thou haſt vp-hoorded in thy life
Extorted Treafure in the wombe of Earth,
(For which, they ſay, you Spirits oft walke in death)
Speake of it. Stay, and ſpeake. Stop it Marcellus.

Mar. Shall I ſtrike at it with my Partizan ?

Hor. Do, if it will not ſtand.

Barn. 'Tis heere.

Hor. 'Tis heere.

Mar. 'Tis gone.

Exit Ghoſt.

We do it wrong, being ſo Maieſticol
To offer it the ſhew of Violence,
For it is as the Ayre, invulnerable,
And our vaine blowes, malitious Mockery.

Barn. It was about to ſpeake, when the Cocke crew.

Hor. And then it ſtarted, like a guilty thing
Vpon a ſearfull Summons. I haue heard,
The Cocke that is the Trumpet to the day,
Doth with his lofty and ſhill-founding Throate
Awake the God of Day: and at his warning,
Whether in Sea, or Fire, in Earth, or Ayre,
Th'extrauagant, and erring Spirit, hyes
To his Confine. And of the truth heerein,
This preſent Obieſt made probation.

Mar. It faded on the crowing of the Cocke.
Some ſayes, that euer 'gainſt that Seaſon comes
Wherein our Sauiours Birth is celebrated,
The Bird of Dawning ſingeth all night long :
And then (they ſay) no Spirit can walke abroad,
The nights are wholſome, then no Planets ſtrike,
No Faiery talkes, nor Witch hath power to Charme :

So hallow'd, and ſo gracious is the time.

Hor. So haue I heard, and do in part beleeue it.
But looke, the Morne in Ruffet mantle clad,
Walkes o're the dew of yon high Eafterne Hill,
Breake we our Watch vp, and by my aduice
Let vs impart what we haue ſeene to night
Vnto yong Hamlet. For vpon my life,
This Spirit dumbe to vs, will ſpeake to him :
Do you conſent we ſhall acquaint him with it,
As neeſtfull in our Loues, fitting our Duty ?

Mar. Let don't I pray, and I this morning know
Where we ſhall finde him moſt conueniently.

Exeunt

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Claudius King of Denmark, Gertrude the Queen,
Hamlet, Palomino, Laertes, and his Sifter O-
phelia, Lords Attendant.

King. Though yet of Hamlet our deere Brothers death
The memory be greene: and that it vs befitted
To beare our hearts in greene, and our whole Kingdome
To be contracſed in one brow of woe:
Yet ſo faire hath Difcretion fought with Nature,
That we with wifeforlth thinke on him,
Together with remembrance of our ſelues.
Therefore our ſometimes Sifter, now our Queen,
Th'Imperiall Loyntreſſe of this watlike State,
Haue we, as 'twere, with a defeated ioy,
With one Aufpicious, and one Dropping eye,
With mirth in Funerall, and with Duerin Marriage,
In equall Scale weighing Delight and Dole
Taken to Wife: nor haue we heerein barr'd
Your better Wifedomes, which haue freely gone
With this affaire along, for all our Thankes.
Now followes, that you know young Fortinbras,
Holding a weake ſupſoffall of our worth;
Or thinking by our late deere Brothers death,
Our State to be diſioynt, and out of Frame,
Colleagued with the dreame of his Aduantage,
He hath not ſayl'd to pefter vs with Meſſage,
Importing the ſurrender of thoſe Lands
Loft by his Father: with all Bonds of Law
To our moſt valiant Brother. So much for him.

Enter Voltemand and Cornelius.

Now for our ſelfe, and for this time of meeting
Thus much the buſineſſe is. We haue heere write
To Norway, Vncle of young Fortinbras,
Who Impotent and Bedrid, ſcarſely heares
Of this his Nephewes purpofe, to ſuppreſſe
His further gate heerein. In that the Leuies,
The Lifts, and full proportions are all made
Out of his ſubieſt: and we heere diſpatch
You good Cornelius, and you Voltemand,
For bearing of this greeting to old Norway,
Giuing to you no further perſonall power
To buſineſſe with the King, more then the ſcope
Of theſe dilated Articles allow :

Farewell, and let your haſt commend your duty.

Volt. In that, and all things, will we ſhow our duty.

King. We doubt it nothing, heartily farewell.

Exit Voltemand and Cornelius.

And now Laertes, what's the newes with you ?

You

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

154

You told vs of some suite. What is't Laertes ?
You cannot speake of Reasen to the Dane,
And loose your voyce. What wouldst thou beg Laertes,
That shall not be my Offer, not thy Asking ?
The Head is not more Native to the Heart,
The Hand more Instrumentall to the Mouth,
Then is the Throne of Denmarke to thy Father.
What wouldst thou haue Laertes ?

Laer. Dread my Lord,

Your leaue and fauour to returne to France.
From whence, though willingly I came to Denmarke
To shew my duty in your Coronation,
Yet now I muft confeile, that duty done,
My thoughts and wishes bend againe towards France,
And bow them to your gracious leaue and pardon.

King. Haue you your Fathers leaue ?

What fayes Pollonius ?

Pol. He hath my Lord:

I do befeech you giue him leaue to go.

King. Take thy faire houre Laertes, time be thine,
And thy beft graces fpend it at thy will :
But now my Corin Hamlet, and my Sonne?

Ham. A little more then kin, and leſſe then kinder.

King. How is it that the Clouds ſtill hang on you ?

Ham. Not so my Lord, I am too much i'th'Sun.

Queen. Good Hamlet caſt thy nightly colour off,
And let thine eye looke like a Friend on Denmarke.
Do not for euer with thy veyled lids

Seeke for thy Noble Father in the duſt;

Thou know'st it'tis common, all that liues muſt dye,
Paſſing through Nature, to Eternity.

Ham. I Madam, it is common.

Queen. If it be;

Why feemes it so particular with thee.

Ham. Seemes Madam? Nay, it is : I know not Seemes:
'Tis not alone my Inky Cloake (good Mother)

Nor Customary ſuites of ſolemne Blacke,

Nor windy ſupſpiration of ſorc'd breath,

No, nor the fruitfull Riuer in the Eye,

Nor the deiceted hauiour of the Viſage,

Together with all Formes, Moods, ſhewes of Griefe,

That can denote me truly. Theſe indeed Seeme;
For they are actions that a man might play :
But I haue that Within, which paffeth ſhow;
Theſe, but the Trappings, and the Suites of woe.

King. 'Tis ſweet and commendable

In your Nature Hamlet,

To giue theſe mourning duties to your Father:
But you muſt know, your Father loft a Father,
That Father loft, loft his, and the Suruier bound
In filiall Obligation, for some terme

To do obſequious Sorrow. But to perfeu er

In obſtinate Condelement, is a course

Of impious ſubbornneſſe. 'Tis vnmanly greeſe,

It ſhewes a will muſt incorreſt to Heauen,

A Heart vnfortiſed, a Minde impatient,

An Undeſtanding ſimple, and vnſchool'd:

For, what we know muſt be, and is as common

As any the moſt vulgar thing to fence,

Why ſhould we in our pecuifh Oppoſition

Take it to heart? Eye, 'tis a fault to Heauen,

A fault against the Dead, a fault to Nature,

To Reasen moſt abſurd, whoſe common Theame

Is death of Fathers, and who ſtill hath cried,

From the first Coarſe, till he that dyed to day,

This muſt be ſo. We pray you throw to earth

This vnpreuayling woe, and thinke of vs
As of a Father; For let the world take note,
You are the moſt immediate to our Throne,
And with no leſſe Nobility of Loue,
Then that which dereſt Father beares his Sonne,
Do I impart towards you. For your intent
In going backe to Schoole in Wittenberg,
It is moſt retrograde to our defire:
And we beſeech you, bend you to remaine
Heere in the cheere and comfort of our eye,
Our cheeſt Courſier Corin, and our Sonne.

Dy. Let not thy Mother loſe her Prayers Hamlet:
I prythee ſtay with vs, go not to Wittenberg.

Ham. I ſhall in all my beſt

Obey you Madam.

King. Why'tis a louing, and a faire Reply,
Be as our ſelfe in Denmarke. Madam come,
This gentle and vnfore'd accord of Hamlet
Sits ſmiling to my heart; in grace whereof,
No iocond health that Denmarke drinkes to day,
But the great Cannon to the Clowds ſhall tell,
And the Kings Rouce, the Heauens ſhall bruite againe,
Reſpeaking earthly Thunder. Come away.
Exenut

Manet Hamlet.

Ham. Oh that this too too ſolid Fleſh, would melt,
Thaw, and refolue it ſelfe into a Dew:
Or that the Euerlaffing had not fixt
His Cannon 'gainſt ſelſe-flaughter. O God, O God!
How weary, ſtale, flat, and vnprofitable
Seemes to me all the ſves of this world?
Fie on't? Oh ſie, ſie, 'tis an vnweeded Garden
That growes to Seed: Things rank, and groſſe in Nature
Poffe ſſe it meerely. That it should come to this:
But two months dead: Nay, not so much; not two,
So excellent a King, that was to this
Hypen to a Satyre: so louing to my Mother,
That he might not beteene the windes of heauen
Visit her face too roughly. Heauen and Earth
Muſt I remember: why ſhe would hang on him,
As if encreafe of Appetite had growne
By what it fed on; and yet within a month?

Let me not thinke on't: Frailty, thy name is woman.

A little Month, or ere the ſhooes were old,

With which ſhe followed my poore Fathers body

Like Niobe, all teares. Why ſhe, euen ſhe.

(O Heauen! A beaſt that wants diſcourſe of Reasen
Would haue mourn'd longer) married with mine Vnkle,
My Fathers Brother: but no more like my Father,
Then I to Hercules. Within a Moneth?

Ere yet the ſalt of moſt vnrighteous Teares

Had left the fluſhing of her gauled eyes,

She married. O moſt wicked ſpeed, to poſt

With ſuch dexterity to Inceſtuous ſheets:

It is not, nor it cannot come to good.

But breake my heart, for I muſt hold my tongue.

Enter Horatio, Barnard, and Marcellus.

Hor. Haile to your Lordship.

Ham. I am glad to fee you well:

Horatio, or I do forget my ſelfe.

Hor. The fame my Lord,

And your poore Seruant euer.

Ham. Sir my good friend,

Ile change that name with you:

And what make you from Wittenberg Horatio?

Mar-

["The Tragedie of Hamlet.", "Marcellua.", "Mar. My good Lord.", "Ham. I am very glad to see you: good euen Sir.", "But what in faith make you from Wittenberge?", "Hor. A truant disposition, good my Lord.", "Ham. I would not have your Enemy say so.", "Nor shall you doe mine care that violence,", "To make it truſter of your owne report.", "Againſt your ſelſe. I know you are no Truant.", "But what is your affaire in Eſlenour?", "Weel teach you to drinke deepe, ere you depart.", "Hor. My Lord, I came to see your Fathers Funeral.", "Ham. I pray thee doe not mock me (fellow Student)", "I thinke it was to fee my Mothers Wedding.", "Hor. Indeed my Lord, it followed hard vpon.", "Ham. Thrift, thrift Horatio: the Funerall Bakt-meats", "Did coldly furniſh forth the Marriage Tables;", "Would I had met my deareſt foe in heauen,", "Ere I had euer ſeene that day Horatio.", "My father, me thinkes I fee my father.", "Hor. Oh where my Lord?", "Ham. In my minds 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 vpon his like againe.", "Hor. My Lord, I thinke I ſaw him yesternight.", "Ham. Saw? Who?", "Hor. My Lord, the King your Father.", "Ham. The King my Father?", "Hor. Season your admiration for a while", "With an attent care; till I may deliuer", "Vpon the witneſſe of theſe Gentlemen,", "This maruell to you.", "Ham. For Heauens loue let me heare.", "Hor. Two nights together, had theſe Gentlemen", "(Marcellus and Barnardo) on their Watch", "In the dead waſt and middle of the night", "Beene thus encountried. A figure like your Father,", "Arm'd at all points exaſtly, Cap a Pe,", "Appeares before them, and with follemeare march", "Goes flow and ſtately: By them thrice he walkt,", "By their oppreſt and ſeare-surprized eyes,", "Within his Truncheons length, whilſt they beſtill'd\nAlmoſt to Jelly with the Act of ſeare,", "Stand dumbe and ſpeake not to him. This to me", "In dreadfull ſecreie impart they did,", "And I with them the third Night kept the Watch,", "Whereas they had deliuer'd both in time,", "Forme 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?", "Mar. My Lord, vpon the platforme where we watcht.", "Ham. Did you not ſpeak to it?", "Hor. My Lord, I did;", "But anſwere made it none: yet once me thought", "It lifted vp it head, and did addreſſe", "It ſelſe to motion, like as it would ſpeake:", "But euen then, the Morning Cooke crew lowd;", "And at the found it ſhrunke in haſt away,", "And vaniſht from our fight.", "Ham. Tis very (range,", "Hor. As I doe lieu my honouſ Lord 'tis true;", "And we did thinke it writ downe in our duty", "To let you know of it.", "Ham. Indeed, indeed Sirs; but this troubles me.", "Hold you the watch to Night?", "Both. We doe my Lord.", "Ham. Arm'd, ſay you?", "Both. Arm'd, my Lord.", "Ham. From top to toe?", "Both. My Lord, from head to foote.", "Ham. Then ſaw you not his face?", "Hor. O yes, my Lord, he wore his Beauer vp.", "Ham. What, lookt he frowningly?", "Hor. A countenance more in ſorrow then in anger.", "Ham. Pale, or red?", "Hor. Nay very pale.", "Ham. And fixt his eyes vpon you?", "Hor. Moſt constantly.", "Ham. I would I had beene there.", "Hor. It would haue much amaz'd you.", "Ham. Very like, very like: ſtaid it long? (dred.)", "Hor. While one with moderate haſt might tell a hun-", "All. Longer, longer.", "Hor. Not when I ſaw't.", "Ham. His Beard was grilſt? no.", "Hor. It was, as I haue ſeene it in his life,", "A Sable Siluer'd. (gaine.)", "Ham. Ile watch to Night; perchance 'twill wake a-", "Hor. I wantred you it will.", "Ham. If it affume my noble Fathers perſon,\nIle ſpeake to it, though Hell it ſelſe should gape", "And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,", "If you haue hitherto conceal'd this fight,", "Let it bee treble in your ſilence ſtill :", "And whatſoever els ſhall hap to night,", "Gieu it an vnderſtanding but no tongue;", "I will requite your loues; ſo, fare ye well:", "Vpon the Platforme twixt eleuen and twelue,", "Ile viſit you.", "All. Our duty to your Honour.", "Exenunt,", "Ham. Your loue, as mine to you: farewell.", "My Fathers Spirit in Armes ? All is not well:", "I doubt ſome foule play: would the Night were come;", "Till then fit full my ſoule; ſoule deeds will rife,", "Though all the earth orewhelm them to mens eies. Exit.", "## Scena Tertia.", "Enter Lasrtes and Ophelia.", "Laer. My neceſſaries are embark'd; Farewell :", "And Sifter, as the Winds giue Benefit,", "And Conuoy is aff.ſtant; doe not ſleep,", "But let me heare from you.", "Ophel. Doe you doubt that?", "Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his ſauurs,", "Hold it a fashion and a toy in Bloud;", "A Violet in the youth of Primy Nature;", "Froward, not permanent; ſweet not laſting", "The ſuppliance of a minute? No more.", "Ophel. No more but so.", "Laer. Thinke it no more:", "For nature crerſant does not grow alone,", "In thewes and Bulke: but as his Temple waxes,", "The inward ſeruice of the Minde and Soule", "Growes wide withall. Perhaps he loues you now,", "And now no ſoyle nor cauett doth beſmerch", "The vertue of his ſeare : but you muſt ſeare", {"bbox": [845, 1376, 874

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

156

His greatneſſe weigh'd, his will is not his owne;
For hee himselfe is tubieſt to his Birth:
Hee may not, as vnualled perſons doe,
Carue for himselfe; for, on his choyce depends
The fanctity and health of the weole State,
And therefore muſt his choyce be circumſcrib'd
Vnto the voyce and yeelding of that Body,
Whereof he is the Head. Then if he ſayes he loues you,
It ſits your wifedome ſo farre to beleeue it;
As he in his peculiar Seſt and force
May giue his ſaying deed: which is no further,
Then the maine voyce of Denmarke goes withall,
Then weigh what loffe your Honour may ſuſtaine,
If with too credent eare you lift his Songs;
Or loffe your Heart; or your chaſt Treſure open
To his vnmaſtred importunity.

Feare it Ophelia, ſcare it my deare Sifter,
And keepe within the reare of your Affection;
Out of the ſhot and danger of Desire.
The chariſt Maid is Prodigall enough,
If the vnmaske her beauty to the Moone:
Vertue it ſelfe ſcapes not calumnious ſtoakes,
The Canker Galls, the Infants of the Spring
Too oft before the buttons be diſcloſ'd,
And in the Morne and liquid dew of Youth,
Contagious blaſtments are moſt imminent.
Be wary then, beſt ſafety lies in ſeaſe;
Youth to it ſelfe rebels, though none else neere.

Ophe. I ſhall ch'effect of this good Leſſon keepe,
As watchmen to my heart: but good my Brother
Doe not as ſome vngracious Pастors doe,
Shew me the ſeepe and thorny way to Heauen;
Whilſt like a puſt and reckleſſe Libertine
Himſelſe, the Primroſe path of dalliance treads,
And reaks not his owne reade.

Laer. Oh, ſcare me not.

Enter Polonius.

I ſtay too long; but here my Father comes:
A double bleſſing is a double grace;

Occasion ſmiles vpon a ſecond leaue.

Polon. Yet heere Laertes? Aboord, aboord for ſhame,
The winde fits in the ſhoulder of your ſaile,
And you are ſaid for there: my bleſſing with you;
And theſe few Precepts in thy memory,
See thou Charaſter. Giue thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any vnproporion'd thought his Aſt:
Be thou familiar; but by no meanes vulgar:
The friends thou haſt, and their adoption tride,
Grapple them to thy Soule, with hoopes of Steele:
But doe not dull thy palme, with entertainment
Of each vnharch't, vnſledg'd Comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrell: but being in
Bear't that th'opposed may beware of thee.
Giue every man thine eare; but few thy voyce:
Take each mans cenſure; but referue thy iudgement:
Coſtly thy habit as thy purſe can buy;
But not expreſt in fancie; rich, not gawdie:
For the Apparell oft proclaimeſ the man.
And they in France of the beſt ranck and ſtation,
Are of a moſt ſelſt and generous cheſſ in that.
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be;
For lone oft loffes both it ſelfe and friend:
And borrowing duls the edge of Husbandry.
This aboue all; to thine owne ſelfe be true:
And it muſt follow, as the Night the Day,
Thou canſt not then be falſe to any man.

Farewell: my Bleſſing ſeason this in thee.

Laer. Moſt humbly doe I take my leaue, my Lord.

Polon. The time inuites you, goe, your ſeruants tend.

Laer. Farewell Ophelia, and remember well
What I haue ſaid to you.

Ophe. Tis in my memory lockt,

And you your ſelfe ſhall keepe the key of it.

Laer. Farewell.

Exit Laer.

Polon. What iſt Ophelia he hath ſaid to you?

Ophe. So plesafe you, ſomthing touching the L. Hamlet.

Polon. Marry, well bethought:

Tis told me he hath very oft of late
Guen private time to you; and you your ſelfe
Haue of your audience beene moſt free and bounteous.
If it be ſo, as ſo is put on me;
And that in way of caution: I muſt tell you,
You do not vnderſand your ſelfe so cleerely,
As it behoues my Daughter, and your Honour.
What is betweene you, giue me vp the truth?

Ophe. He hath my Lord of late, made many tenders
Of his affection to me.

Polon. Affeſtion, puh. You ſpeake like a greene Girl,
Unſuited in ſuch perilous Circumſtance.

Doe you beleeue his tenders, as you call them?

Ophe. I do not know, my Lord, what I should thinke.

Polon. Marry Ile teach you; thinke your ſelfe a Baby,
That you haue tane his tenders for true pay,
Which are not ſtaring. Tender your ſelfe more dearly:
Or not to crack the winde of the poore Phraſe,
Roaming it thus, you'l tender me a fool.

Ophe. My Lord, he hath importun'd me with loue,
In honourable ſtyle.

Polon. I, a ſtyle you may call it, go too, go too.

Ophe. And hath giuen countenance to his ſpeech,
My Lord, with all the vowes of Heauen.

Polon. I, Springes to catch Woodcocks. I doe know
When the Bloud burnes, how Prodigall the Soule
Gives the tongue vowes: theſe blazes, Daughter,
Giuing more light then heate; extinct in both,
Euen in their promife, as it is a making;
You muſt not take for fire. For this time Daughter,
Be ſomewhat ſcanter of your Maiden prefence;
Set your entreatments at a higher rate,
Then a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,
Beleeue ſo much in him, that he is young,
And with a larger tether may he walke,
Then may be giuen you. In ſew, Ophelia,
Doe not beleeue his vowes; for they are Brokers,
Not of the eye, which their Inueſtments ſhow:
But meere implanors of vnholy Sutes,
Breathing like ſanctified and pious bonds,
The better to beguile. This is for all :
I would not, in plaine tearmes, from this time forth,
Haue you ſo ſlander any moment leifure,
As to giue words or talke with the Lord Hamlet:
Looke too't, I charge you; come your wayes.

Ophe. I ſhall obey my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet, Horatio, Marcellus.

Ham. The Ayre bites ſhrewdly: is it very cold?

Hor. It is a nipping and an eager ayre.

Ham. What hower now?

Hor. I thinke it lacks of twelue.

Mar. No, it is strooke.

Hor. Indeed I heard it not: then it draws neere the
Wherein the Spirit held his wont to walke. What

["The Tragedie of Hamlet.", "257", "What does this meane my Lord?", "(roue,", "Ham. The King doth wake to night, and takes his\nKeepes waffels and the fwiagging vp spring keeles,\nAnd as he dreines his draughts of Renish downe,\nThe kettle Drum and Trumpet thus bray out\nThe triumph of his Pledge.", "Horat. Is it a Custome?", "Ham. I marry it,", "And to my mind, though I am natie here,", "And to the manner borne: It is a Custome.", "More honour'd in the breach, then the obseruance.", "Enter Ghoft.", "Hor. Looke my Lord, it comes.", "Ham. Angels and Minifles of Grace defend us:", "Be thou a Spirit of health, or Goblin damn'd,\nBring with thee ayres from Heauen, or blasis from Hell,\nBethy euents wicked or charitable,", "Thou com'st in such a questionable shape.", "That I will speake to thee. I call thee Hamlet,\nKing, Father, Royall Dane : Oh, oh, anſwer me,\nLet me not burſt in Ignorance, but tell", "Why thy Canoniz'd bones Heaſed in death,\nHane burſt their cerments, why the Sepulcher", "Wherein we ſaw thee quietly cunn'd,", "Hath op'd his ponderous and Marble iawes,\nTo caſt thee vp againe: What may this meane?", "That thou dead Coarſe againe in compleat ficele,", "Reuifes thus the glimpſes of the Moone,", "Making Night higheids? And we fooles of Nature,", "So horribly to ſake our diſposition,\nWith thoughts beyond thee; reaches of our Soules,\nSay, why is this? wherefore? what should we doe?", "Ghoſt broken Hamlet.", "Hor. It beckons you to goe away with it,\nAs it ſome impartment did deſire\nTo you alone.", "Mar. Looke with what courteous adion", "It waſts you to a more remoued ground :", "But doe not goe with it.", "Hor. No, by no means.", "Ham. It will not speake: then will I follow it.", "Hor. Do not my Lord.", "Ham. Why, what should be the ſcare ?", "I do not ſet my life at a pins fee;", "And for my Soules, what can it doe to that?", "Being a thing immortall as it ſelfe:", "It waues me forth againe; Ile follow it.", "Hor. What if it tempt you toward the Floud my Lord?", "Or to the dreadfull Sonnet of the Cliffe,\nThat beetles o're his bafe into the Sea,\nAnd there affumes some other horrible forme,\nWhich might deprive your Soueraignty of Reaſon,\nAnd draw you into madneſſe thinke of it?", "Ham. It waſts me still : goe on, Ile follow thee.", "Mar. You ſhall not goe my Lord.", "Ham. Hold off your hand.", "Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not goe :", "Ham. My face cries out,", "And makes each petty Atire in this body,\nAs hardy as the Neman Lionerne :", "Still am I cal'd? Vnhand me Gentlemen :", "By Heau'n, Ile make a Ghoſt of him that lets me:\nI ſay away, goe on, Ile follow thee.", "Exeunt Ghoſt & Hamlet.", "Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination.", "Mar. Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him.", "Hor. Haue after, to what ill ſwill this come?", "Mar. Something is ſotten in the State of Denmark.", "Hor. Heauen will direct it.", "Mar. Nay, let's follow him.", "Exeunt.", "Enter Ghoſt and Hamlet.", "Ham. Where wilt thou lead me? speak; I'll go no further.", "Gho. Marke me.", "Ham. I will.", "Gho. My hower is almost come,", "When I to sulphurous and tormenting Flames", "Muſt render vp my ſelfe.", "Ham. Alas poore Ghoſt.", "Gho. Pitty me not, but lend thy ſerious hearing", "To what I ſhall vnfold.", "Ham. Speake, I am bound to heare.", "Gho. So art thou to revenge, when thou ſhalt heare.", "Ham. What?", "Gho. I am thy Fathers Spirit,", "Doom'd for a certaine terme to walke the night;", "And for the day confin'd to ſaſt in Fiers,", "Till the foule crimes done in my dayes of Nature.", "Are burnt and purg'd away? But that I am forbid", "To tell the ſecrets of my Prison-Houſe;", "I could a Tale vnfold, whose lighſt word", "Would harrow vp thy foule, freeſe thy young blood,", "Make thy two eyes like Starres, ſtart from their Spheres,", "Thy knotty and combined locks to pare,", "And each particular haire to stand an end,", "Like Quilles vpon the fullrett Porpentine;", "But this eternall blafon muſt not be", "To cares of ſlesh and blood; lift Hamlet, oh lift,", "If thou didst euer thy dear eather Loue.", "Ham. Oh Heauen!", "Gho. Reuenge his foule and moſt vn naturall Murther.", "Ham. Murther?", "Ghoſt. Murther moſt foule, as in the beſt it is ;", "But this moſt foule, ſtrange, and vn naturall.", "Ham. Haſt, haſt me to know it,", "I hat with wings as swift", "As meditation, or the thoughts of Loue,", "May ſweepe to my Reuenge.", "Ghoſt. I finde thee apt,", "And duller should it thou be then the fat weede", "That rots it ſelfe in eade, on Lethe Whatſe,", "Would it not ſtire in this. Now Hamlet heare :", "It's gien out, that ſleeping in mine Orchard,", "A Serpent ſtung me : to the whole eade of Denmark,", "Is by a forged proceſſe of my dearth", "Rankly abus'd: But know thou Noble youth,", "The Serpent that did ſling thy Fathers life,", "Now weares his Crowne.", "Ham. O my Propheſiſke foule: mine Uncle ?", "Ghoſt. I that ineſtuous, that adulterate Beaſt", "With witchcraft of his wits, hath Treſtorous guilts,", "Oh wicked Wit, and Gifts, that haue the power", "So to ſeduce? Won to to this fame ſull Luft", "The will of my moſt ſeeming vertuous Queene:", "Oh Hamlet, what a falling off was there,", "From me, whose loue was of that dignity,", "That it went hand in hand, even with the Vow", "I made to her in Marriage; and to decline", "Upon a wretch, whose Naturall gifts were poore", "To thofe of mine. But Vertue, as it neuer wil be moued,", "Though Lewdneſſe court it in a ſhape of Heauen :", "So Luft, though to a radiant Angell link'd,", "Will fate it ſelfe in a Celestiallbed, & prey on Garbage.", "Oo", "But", "thee,\ny leaue, my Lord\nyour ſonnettes,\nand ebben well", "key of it.", "Exit Loue.\nLau'd to you?", "uching the L. Ham.", "your ſ

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

But soft, methinks I sent the Mornings Ayre;
Briefe let me be: Sleeping within mine Orchard,
My custome alwayse in the afternoone;

Upon my fecure hower thy Vncle stole
With iuyce of cursed Hebenon in a Violl,
And in the Porches of mine eares did pourre

The leaperous Distilment; whose effect
Holds such an enmity with bloud of Man,
That swift as Quick-sfiler, it courtes through

The naturall Gaces and Allies of the Body;
And with a fodaine vigour it doth poffet

And curd, like Aygre droppings into Milke,
The thin and wholſome blood: so did it mine;
And a moſt instant Tetter bak'd about,

Moft Lazar-like, with vile and loathsome cruſt,
All my smooth Body.

Thus was I, sleeping, by a Brothers hand,
Of Life, of Crowne, and Queene at once dispatcht;

Cut off euen in the Bloſſomes of my Sinne,
Vnhouzzled, disappointed, vnnaneld,
No reckoning made, but ſent to my account

With all my imperfections on my head;

Oh horrible, Oh horrible, moſt horrible:
If thou haſt nature in thee beare it not;

Let not the Royall Bed of Denmarke be

A Couch for Luxury and damned Inceſt.

But how ſoever thou purſueſt this Act,

Taint not thy mind; nor let thy Soule contriue
Against thy Mother ought; leaue her to heauen,
And to thofe Thornes that in her boſome lodge,

To pricke and fling her. Fare thee well at once;
The Glow-worme ſhowes the Matine to be neere,
And gins to pale his vneſſectuall Fire:

Adue, adue, Hamlet: remember me.

Exit.

Ham. Oh all you hoſt of Heauen! Oh Earth; what els?

And shall I couple Hell? Oh ſie: hold my heart;
And you my ſinnewes, grow not inſtant Old;
But beare me stiffely vp: Remember thee ?

I, thou poore Ghoſt, while memory holds a ſeaſe

In this diftraſted Globe: Remember thee ?
Yea, from the Table of my Memory,

He llpe away all triuiall ſond Records,
All ſawes of Bookes, all ſormes, all preſures paff,
That youth and obſeruation coppied there;

And thy Commandment all alone ſhall hine
Within the Booke and Volume of my Braine,
Vomixt with bafe r matter; yes, yes, by Heauen:
Oh moſt pernicious woman!

Oh Villaine, Villaine, ſmiling damned Villaine !
My Tables, my Tables; meet it is I fet it downe,
That one may ſmile, and ſmile and be a Villaine;
At leaſt I'm ſure it may be ſo in Denmarke ;

So Vnckle there you are: now to my word;
It is; Adue, Adue, Remember me: I haue ſworn't.

Hor. & Mar. within. My Lord, my Lord,
Enter Horatio and Marcellus. 4

Mar. Lord Hamlet.

Hor. Heauen ſecure him,

Mar. So be it.

Hor. Ilo, ho, ho, my Lord.

Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy; come bird, come.

Mar. How is't my Noble Lord?

Hor. What newes, my Lord?

Ham. Oh wonderfull!

Hor. Good my Lord tell it.

Ham. No you Treueale it.

Hor. Not I, my Lord, by Heauen.

Mar. Nor I, my Lord.

Ham. How ſay you then, would heart of man once
But you'l be ſecret?

Both. I, by Heau'n, my Lord.

Ham. There's nere a villaine dwelling in all Denmarke;
But hee's an arrant knaue.

Hor. There needs no Ghoſt my Lord, come from the
Graue, to tell vs this.

Ham. Why right, you are i'th' right;
And so, without more circumſtance at all,
I hold it fit that we ſhake hands, and part:
You, as your buſines and defires ſhall point you:
For euery man ha's buſineſſe and defire,

Such as it is: and for mine owne poore part,

Looke you, Ile goe pray.

Hor. Theſe are but wild and hurling words, my Lord,

Ham. I'm ſorry you offend you heartily:

Yes faith, heartily.

Hor. There's no offencemy Lord.

Ham. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is my Lord,
And much offence too, touching this Vifion heere:

It is an honest Ghoſt, that let me tell you:

For your defire to know what is betweene vs,
O remaſter't as you may. And now good friends,
As you are Friends, Schollers and Soldiers,

Giue me one poore requeſt.

Hor. What is't my Lord? we will.

Ham. Neuer make known what you haue ſeen to night,

Both. My Lord, we will not.

Ham. Nay, but ſwear't.

Hor. Inſaith my Lord, not I.

Mar. Nor I my Lord: in faith.

Ham. Upon my ſword.

Marcell. We haue ſworne my Lord already.

Ham. Indeed, upon my ſword, Indeed.

Gho. ſweare.

Ghoſt cries under the Stage.

Ham. Ah ha boy, ſay eſt thou ſo. Art thou there true-
penny ? Come one you here this fellow in the ſeller'dge
Conſent to ſweare.

Hor. Propoſe the Oath my Lord.

Ham. Neuer to ſpeake of this that you haue ſeene,
Sweare by my ſword.

Gho. ſweare.

Ham. Hic & obvique? Then wee'l ſhift for grownd,
Come hither Gentlemen,
And lay your hands againe upon my ſword,
Neuer to ſpeake of this that you haue heard:

Sweare by my Sword.

Sweare by my Sword.

(ſaſt?)

Gho. ſweare.

Ham. Well ſaid old Mole, can't worke i'th' ground ſo
A worthy Pioner, once more remoue good friends.

Hor. Oh day and night; but this is wondrous ſtrange.

Ham. And therefore as a ſtranger giue it welcome.
There are more things in Heauen and Earth, Horatio,
Then are dream't of in our Philofophy. But come,

Here as before, neuer ſo helpe you mercy,
How ſtrange or odde ſo ere I beare my ſelfe;
(As I perchance hereeafter ſhall thinke me
To put an Anticke diſpoſition on :)

That you at ſuch time feeing me, neuer ſhall
With Armes encombred thus, or thus, head ſhake;
Or by pronouncing of ſome doubtfull Phraſe;
As well, we know, or we could and if we would,

Or if we lift to ſpeake ; or there be and if there might,
Or ſuch ambiguous giuing out to note,

That

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

259

That you know ought of me; this not to doe :

So grace and mercy at your most neede helpe you : Sweare.

Ghast. Sweare.

Ham. Ret, left perturbed Spirit: to Gentlemen,
With all my love I doe commend me to you;

And what to poore a man as Hamlet is,

May do t'expresse his loue and friending to you,

God willing shall not lacke: let vs goe in togethers,
And fill your fingers on your lippes I pray,

The time is out of toyl: Oh curst fright,
That euer I was borne to see it right.

Nay, come let's goe together.

Exeunt.

## Actus Secundus.

Enter Polonius, and Reynaldo.

Polon. Give him his money; and thele notes Reynaldo.

Reynol. I will my Lord.

Polon. You shall doe marvels wifely: good Reynaldo,
Before you vifite him you make inquiry
Of his behaviour.

Reynol. My Lord, I did intend it.

Polon. Marry, well said;

Very well said. Looke you Sir,

Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris;

And how, and who; what meanes; and where they keepe;

What company, at what expence: and finding

By this encompassement and drift of question,

That they doe know my fonne: Come you more neerer

Then your particular demands will touch it,

Take you as 'were some distant knowledge of him,

And thus I know his father and his friends,

And in part him. Doe you marke this Reynaldo?

Polon. And in part him, but you may say not well,

But if't be mee, hees very wilde;

Addicted so and so; and there put on him

What forgeries you pleafe: marry, none so ranke,

As may diſhonour him; take heed of that :

But Sir, such wanton, wild, and vnſual slips,

As are Companions noted and moſt knowne

To youth and liberty.

Reynol. As gaming my Lord.

Polon. I, or drinking, fencing, ſwearing,

Quarrelling, drabbing. You may goe so farre.

Reynol. My Lord that would diſhonour him.

Polon. Faith no, as you may feefon it in the charge;

You must not put another ſcandall on him,

That hee is open to Incontinencie;

That's not my meaning; but breath his faults so quaintly,

That they may feeme the taints of liberty;

The flash and out-breake of a ſiety minde,

A ſauagene in vnreclaim'd blood of generall affault.

Reynol. But my good Lord.

Polon. Wherefore should you do this?

Reynol. I my Lord, I would know that.

Polon. Marry Sir, heere's my drift,

And I believe it is a fetch of warrant:

You laying the flight fulleyes on my Soune,

As 'twere a thing a little foil'd or ch't working : (found,

Make you your party in companye; him you would

Having euer scene. In the prenominate crimes,

The youth you breath of guilty, be affu'd;

He cloſes with you in this conſequnce:

Good fir, or ſo, or friend, or Gentleman.

According to the Phraſe and the Additions,

Of Man and Country.

Reynol. Very good my Lord.

Polon. And then Sir does he this ?

He does : what was I about to ſay?

I was about to ſay ſomething : where did I leaue?

Reynol. At cloſes in the conſequnce:

A friend, or ſo; and Gentleman,

Polon. At cloſes in the conſequnce, I marry,
He cloſes with you thus. I know the Gentleman,
I ſaw him yefterday, or tother day;

Or then or then, with ſuch and ſuch; and as you ſay,

There was he gaming, there o're tooke his Rouse,

There falling out at Tennis ; or porthance,

I ſaw him enter ſuch a houſe of ſaile;

Videlicet, a Brothell, or ſo forth. See you now;

Your bait of falſhhood, takes this Cape of truth;

And thus doe we of wifedome and of reach

With windſeffes, and with affaies of Bias,

By indirections finde directions out:

So by my former Lecüre and aduice

Shall you my Sonnes you haue me, haue you not?

Reynol. My Lord I haue.

Polon. God buy you; fare you well.

Reynol. Good my Lord.

Polon. Obferue his inclination in your ſelſe.

Reynol. I shall my Lord.

Polon. And let him plye his Musiſke.

Reynol. Well, my Lord.

Enter Ophelia.

Polon. Farewell:

How now Ophelia, what's the matter?

Ophel. Alis my Lord, I haue beene so affrighted,

Polon. With what, in the name of Heauen?

Ophel. My Lord, as I was fowing in my Chamber,

Lord Hamlet with his doublet all vnbrac'd,

No hat upon his head, his ſtockings ſoul'd,

Vagartræd, and downe giued to his Anckle,

Pale as his ſhirt, his knees knocking each other,

And with a looke so pitious in purport,

As if he had been looke out of hell,

To speake of horrors : he comes before me.

Polon. Mad for thy Loue?

Ophel. My Lord, I doe not know: but truly I do feare it.

Polon. What said he?

Ophel. He tooke me by the wrift, and held me hard;

Then goes he to the length of all his arme;

And with his other hand thus o're his brow,

He falts to such perſuall of my face,

As he would draw it. Long ſhaid he so,

At laſt, a little flaking of mine Arme :

And thrice his head thus wauing vp and downe;

He rais'd a ſigh, so pittious and profound,

That it did feeme to ſhatter all his bulke,

And end his being. That done, he lets me goe,

And with his head ouer his shoulders turn'd

He feem'd to finde his way without their eyes,

For out adores he went without their helpes;

And to the laſt, bended their light on me.

Polon. Goe with me, I will goe feeke the King,

This is the very extaſie of Loue,

Whole violent property foredoes it ſelſe,

And

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

260

And leads the will to desperate Vndertakings,
As oft as any passion vnder Heauen,
That does affixt our Natures. I am forrie,
What haue you giuen him any hard words of late?

Ophe. No my good Lord : but as you did command,
I did repell his Letters, and deny'de
His accele to me.
Pol. That hath made him mad.
I am forrie that with better speed and judgement
I had not quoted him. I feare he did but trifle,
And meant to wracke thee : but beſhrew my icalouſe:
It ſeemes it is as proper to our Age,
To caſt beyond our ſelues in our Opinions,
As it is common for the yonger ſort.
To lacke diſcretion. Come, go we to the King,
This muſt be knowne, w being kept close might moue
More greeſe to hide, then hate to vther loue.
Exeunt

## Scena Secunda.

Enter King, Queene, Rofincrane, and Guildenſterne Cumalys.

King, Welcome deere Rofincrance and Guildenſterne.
Moreoner, that we much did long to see you,
The neede we haue to vſe you, did prouoke
Our haſtſe ſending. Something haue you heard
Of Hamlets transformation : to I call it,
Since not th'exterior, nor the inward man
Reſembles that it was. What it should bee.
More then his Fathers death, that thus hath put him
So much from th'ndeſtanding of himſelfe,
I cannot deeme of. I intreat you both,
That being of ſo young dayes brought vp with him :
And ſince to Neighbour'd to his youth, and humour,
That you vouchſalſe your reſt heere in our Court
Some little time : ſo by your Companies
To draw him on to pleafures, and to gather
So much as from Occafions you may gneane,
That open'd lies within our remedie.

Qn. Good Gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you,
And ſure I am, two men there are not liuing,
To whom he more adheres. If it will pleafe you
To ſhew vs so much Gentrie, and good will,
As to expend your time with vs a while,
For the ſupply and profit of our Hope,
Your Vifitation ſhall receive ſuch thankses
As ſits a Kings remembrance.

Rofin. Both your Maiefiſes
Might by the Soueraigne power you haue of vs,
Put your dread pleafures, more into Command
Then to Entreatie.

Guil. We both obey,
And here giue vp our ſelues, in the full bene,
To lay our ſeruices ſleely at your ſeete,
To be commanded.

King. Thankes Rofincrance, and gentle Guildenſterne.

Qu. Thankes Guildenſterne and gentle Rofincrance.
And I beſeech you infantly to viſit

My too much changed Sonne.

Go some of ye.

And bring the Gentlemen where Hamlet is.

Gail. Heauens make our preſence and our practiſes
Pleasant and helpfull to him.

Queene. Amen.

Enter Polonius.

Pol. Th'Ambaſſadors from Norway, my good Lord,
Are ioyfully return'd.

King. Thou ſtill haſt bin the Father of good Newes.
Pol. Haue I, my Lord? Affure you, my good Liege,
I hold my dutie, as I hold my Soule,

Both to my God, one to my gracious King:

And I do thinke, or eſſe this braine of mine
Hunts not the traile of Policie, to ſure

As I haue vs'd to do : that I haue found

The very cauſe of Hamlets Lunacie.

King. Ob ſpeake of that, that I do long to heare.

Pol. Gue firſt admittance to th'Ambaſſadors,
My Newes shall be the Newes to that great Feaſt.

King. Thy ſelfe do grace to them, and bring them in.
He tells me my ſweet Queene, that he hath found
The head and fourſe of all your Sonnes diſtemper.

Qu. I doubt it is no other, but the maine,
His Fathers death, and our o're-haſty Marriage.

Enter Polonius,oltumand, and Cornelius.

King. Well, we ſhall firſt him. Welcome good Frends.
Say Voltumand, what from our Brother Norway?

Volt. Moſt faire returne of Greetings, and Defines.
Vpon our firſt, he ſent out to ſuppreſſe

His Nephewes Leuies, which to him appear'd

To be a preparation 'gainſt the Poleak :

But better look'd into, he truly found

It was againſt your Highneſſe, whereat greeu'd,

That ſo his Sicknessleſſe, Age, and Impotence

Was falſely borne in hand, ſends our Arreſts

On Fortinbras, which he (in brieſe) obeyes,

Receives rebuke from Norway: and in fine,

Makes Vow before his Vnkle, neuer more

To giue th'affay of Armes againſt your Maiefie.

Whereon old Norway, ouercome with joy,

Giués him three thouſand Crownes in Annuall ſee,

And his Commiſſion to imploy that ſoldiers

So leuied as before, againſt the Poleak :

With an intertreye herein further ſhewe,

That it might pleafe you to giue quiet paffe

Through your Dominions, for his Enterprize,

On ſuch regards of safety and allowance,

As therein are ſet downe.

King. It likes vs well:

And at our more confider'd time wee'l read,

Anſwer, and thinke vpon this. Buſineſſe.

Meane time we thanke you, for your well-tooke Labour.

Go to your reſt, at night wee'l Feaſt together.

Exit Ambaſſ.

Moſt welcome home.

Pol. This buſineſſe is very well ended.
My Liege, and Madam, to expofutate
What Maiefie should be, what Dutie is,
Why day is day, night, night; and time is time,
Were nothing but to wafe Night, Day and Time,
Therefore, ſince Breuitie is the Soule of Wit,
And tediousneſſe, the limbes and outward flouriſhes,
I will be brieſe. Your Noble Sonne is mad :
Mad call it it; for to define true Madneſſe,
What is't, but to be nothing eſſe but mad.
But let that go.

Qu. More matter, with leſſe Art.

Pol. Madam, I ſware I vien no Art at all :
That he is mad, 'tis true : 'Tis true 'tis pittie,
And pittie it is true : A foolish figure,
But farewell it : for I will vſe no Art.

Mad

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

261

Mad let vs grant him then: and now remains
That we finde out the caufe of this effect,
Or rather say, the caufe of this defect;
For this effect detectiue, comes by caufe,
Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. Perpend,
I haue a daughter: haue, whilst she is mine,
Who in her Dutie and Obedience, marke,
Hath giuen me this: now gather, and furmife.

The Letter.

To the Celestiall, and my Souses Idoll, the most beautiful Ophelia.

That's an ill Phraſe, a vilde Phraſe, beautified is a vilde
Phraſe: but you shall heare theſe in her excellent white
boſome, theſe.

Qu. Came this from Hamlet to her.

Pol. Good Madam flav a while, I will be faithful.

Doubt thou, the Starres are fire,

Doubt, that the Sunne doth move.

Doubt Truth to be a Lier,

But neuer Doubt, I love.

O deere Ophelia, I am ill at these Numbers: I haue not Art to reckon my grones; but that I love those best, oh moſt beſt believe it. Adies.

Thou encomer most deere Lady, whilſt this
Machine is to him, Hamlet.

This in Obedience hath my daughter ſhew'd me:

And more aboue hath his Soliciting,

As they fell out by Time, by Meanes, and Place,

All giuen to mine eare.

King. But how hath ſhe recei'd his Loue?

Pol. What do you thinke of me ?

King. As of a man, faithfull and Honourable.

Pol. I wold faire proue so. But what might you think?

When I had ſene this hot loue on the wings.

As I perceived it, I muſt tell you that

Before my Daughter told me, what might you

My deere Maieſtie your Queene heere, think,

If I had playd the Deske or Table-booke,

Or giuen my heart a winking, mute and dumbe,

Or look'd upon this Loue, with idle fight,

What might you thinke ? No, I went round to worke,

And (my yong Miftris) thus I did beſpeak

Lord Hamlet is a Prince out of thy Starre,

This muſt not be: and then, I Precepts gaue her,

That ſhe should locke her ſelfe from his Refort,

Admit no Meffengers, receiue no Tokens:

Which done, ſhe tooke the Fruites of my Aduice,

And he repuſed. A short Tale to make,

Fell into a Sadneſſe, then into a F. ſt.

Thence to a Watch, thence into a Weakneſſe,

Thence to a Lightneſſe, and by this declension

Into the Madneſſe whereon now he raues,

And all we waile for.

King. Do you thinke't is this?

Qu. It may be very likely.

Pol. Hath there bene such a time, I de fain know that,

That I haue poſſitely faid, 'tis ſo,

When it prou'd otherwife?

King. Not that I know.

Pol. Take this from me; if this be otherwife,

If Circumſtances lead me, I will finde

Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeede

Within the Center.

King. How may we try it further?

Pol. You know sometimes

He walkes foure houres together, heere

In the Lobby.

Qu. So he has indeed.

Pol. At ſuch a time Ile loose my Daughter to him,

Be you and I behinde an Arras then,

Marke the encounter : If he loue her not,

And be not from his reaſon falne thereon;

Let me be no Aſſiſtant for a State,

And keepe a Farme and Carters.

King. We will try it.

Enter Hamlet reading on a Booke.

Qu. But looke where fadly the poore wretch
Comes reading.

Pol. Away I do beſeech you, both away,
Ile boord him preſently.

Exit King & Queen.

Gh giue me leaue. How does my good Lord Hamlet ?

Ham. Well, God-a-mercy.

Pol. Do you know me, my Lord?

Ham. Excellent, excellent well: y'are a Fiftymonger.

Pol. Not I my Lord.

Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man.

Pol. Honest, my Lord?

Ham. If I, to be honest as this world goes, is to bee
one man pick'd out of two thouſand.

Pol. That's very true, my Lord.

Ham. For if the Sun breed Magots in a dead dogge,
being a good kiffing Carrion—

Haue you a daughter ?

Pol. I haue my Lord.

Ham. Let her not walke i'ch'Sunne: Conception is a
bleſsing, but not as your daughter may conceiue. Friend
looke too't.

Pol. How ſay you by that? Still harping on my daugh-
ter: yet he knew me not at first; he ſaid I was a Fiftymon-
ger: he is farre gone, farre gone: and truly in my youth,
I ſuſered much extreamity for loue: very neere this.
I ſpeake to him againe. What do you read my Lord?

Ham. Words, words, words.

Pol. What is the matter, my Lord?

Ham. Betweene who?

Pol. I meane the matter you meane, my Lord.

Ham. Slanders Sir: for the Satyrical ſlawe ſlies here,
that old men haue gray Beards; that their faces are wrinkled;
their eyes purging thicke Amber, or Plum-Tree
Gumme : and that they haue a plentifull locke of Wit,
together with weake Hammes. All which Sir, though I
moſt powerfully, and potently beleeue ; yet I holde it
not Honetlie to haue it thus fet downe: For you
ſelfe Sir, should be old as I am, if like a Crab you could
go backward.

Pol. Though this be madneſſe,

Yet there is Method in't: will you walke

Out of the ayre my Lord?

Ham. Into my Graue?

Pol. Indeed that is out of o'th'Ayre:
How pregnant (fometimes) his Replies are?

A hapineſſe,

That often Madneſſe hits on,

Which Reaſon and Sanitie could not

So prosperouſly be deliuer'd of.

I will leaue him,

And ſodainely continue the meanes of meeting

Betweene him, and my daughter.

My Honourable Lord, I will moſt humbly

Take my leaue of you.

00 3

Ham

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

262

Ham. You cannot Sir take from me any thing, that I
will more willingly part withall, except my life, my
life.

Polon. Fare you well my Lord.

Ham. Thefe tedious old fooles.

Polon. You goe to feeke my Lord Hamlets; there
hee is.

Enter Rosin-crane and Guildensterne.

Rosin. God faue you Sir.

Guild. Mine honour'd Lord?

Rosin. My moſt deare Lord?

Ham. My excellent good friends ? How doſt thou
Guildenſterne? Oh, Rosin-crane; good Lads: How doe ye
both?

Rosin. As the indifferent Children of the earth.

Guild. Happy, in that we are not ouer-happy: on Fortunes Cap, we are not the very Button.

Ham. Nor the Soales of her Shoo ?

Rosin. Neither my Lord.

Ham. Then you lie about her waſte, or in the mid-
dle of her ſauour ?

Guil. Faith, her priuates, we.

Ham. In the ſecret parts of Fortune ? Oh, moſt true a ſhe is a Strumpet. What's the newes ?

Rosin. None my Lord; but that the World's growne
honest.

Ham. Then is Doomeſday neere: But your newes is
not true. Let me question more in particular: what haue
you my good friends, deſuered at the hands of Fortune,
that ſhe fends you to Prifon hither?

Guil. Prifon, my Lord?

Ham. Denmark's a Prifon.

Rosin. Then is the World one.

Ham. A goodly one, in which there are many Con-
fines, Wards, and Dungeons; Danmark being one o'th'
worſt.

Rosin. We thinke not ſo my Lord.

Ham. Why then'tis none to you; for there is nothing
either good or bad, but thinking makes it ſo: to me it is
a prition.

Rosin. Why then your Ambition makes it one: 'tis
too narrow for your minde.

Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutfhell, and
count my ſelfe a King of infinite ſpace; were it not that
I haue bad dreames.

Guil. Which dreames indeed are Ambition : for the
very ſubſtance of the Ambitious, is meerely the ſhadow
of a Dreame.

Ham. A dreame it ſelfe is but a ſhadow.

Rosin. Truely, and I hold Ambition of ſo ayry and
light a quality, that it is but a ſhadowes ſhadow.

Ham. Then are our Beggers bodies; and our Mo-
narchs and out-fretcht Heroes the Beggers Shadowes;
ſhall wee to th' Court: for, by my fey I cannot rea-
ton ?

Both. Wee'l wait upon you,

Ham. No ſuch matter. I will not forſt you with the
reſt of my ſeruants: for to ſpeake to you like an honest
man: I am moſt dreadfully attended; but in the beaten
way of friendſhip, What make you at Elſonower?

Rosin. To visit you my Lord, no other occasion.

Ham. Begger that I am, I am euen poore in thanks;
but I thanke you: and ſure deare friends my thanks
are too deare a halfepeny; were you not ſent for? Is it
your owne inclining? Is it a free visitation ? Come,

deale iuſtly with me: come, come; nay ſpeake.

Guil. What ſhould we ſay my Lord ?

Ham. Why any thing. But to the purpofe, you were
ſent for; and there is a kinde conſeſſion in your lookes
which your modeſties haue not craft enough to co-
lor, I know the good King & Queene haue ſent for you.

Rosin. To what end my Lord?

Ham. That you muſt teach me: but let mee coniure
you by the rights of our fellowſhip, by the conſonance of
our youth, by the Obligation of our euer-preſerued loue,
and by what more deare, a better propoſer could charge
you withall; be euen and direct with me, whether you
were ſent for or no,

Rosin. What ſay you ?

Ham. Nay then I haue an eye of you: if you loue me
hold not off.

Guil. My Lord, we were ſent for.

Ham. I will tell you why; ſo ſhall my anticipation
preuent your diſcouery of your ſecricie to the King and
Queene:moult no feather, I haue of late, but wherefore
I know not, loſt all my mirth, ſorgone all cuſtome of ex-
ercife; and indeed, it goes ſo heauely with my diſpoſi-
on; that this goodly frame the Earth, ſeemes to me a ſer-
riil Promontory; this moſt excellent Canopy the Ayeſ,
look you, this braue ore-hanging, this Maieſtical Roome,
fretted with golden fire: why, it appears no other thing
to mee, then a foule and peſtilent congregacion of va-
pours. What a piece of worke is a man ! how Noble in
Reaſon ? how infinite in faculty ? in forme and mouing
how expreſſe and admirable ? in Action, how like an An-
gell ? in apprehenſion, how like a God the beauty of the
world, the Parragon of Animals; and yet to me, what is
this Quinteſſence of Duſt? Man delights not me; no,
Nor Woman neither; though by your ſimling you ſeemc
to ſay ſo.

Rosin. My Lord, there was no ſuch ſtuffe in my
thoughts.

Ham. Why did you laugh, when I ſaid, Man delights
not me?

Rosin. To thinke, my Lord, if you delight not in Man,
what Lenton entertainment the Players ſhall receiue
from you: wee coated them on the way, and hither are
they comming to offer you ſeruice.

Ham. He that playes the King ſhall be welcome; his
Maieſty ſhall haue Tribute of mee: the aduənourous
Knight ſhal vſe his Foyle and Target: the Louer ſhall
not high gratiſa, the humorous man ſhall end his part in
peace: the Clowne ſhall make thofe laugh whole Jungs
are tickled a'th' ſere: and the Lady ſhall ſay her minde
freely; or the blanke Verſe ſhall halt for't: what Players
are they ?

Rosin. Euen thatſe you were want to take delight in
the Tragedians of the City.

Ham. How chances it they travaileth? their reſi-
dence both in reputation and profit was better both
wayes.

Rosin. I thinke their Inhibition comes by the means
of the late Innouation ?

Ham. Doe they hold the fame ſtimation they did
when I was in the City? Are they ſo follow'd?

Rosin. No indeed, they are not.

Ham. How comes it ? do they grow rufy?

Rosin. Nay, their indeauour keepeſ in the wonted
pace; But there is Sir an ayrie of Children, little
Yafes, that crye out on the top of queſtion; and
are moſt tyrannically clap't for't: there are now the
fashi-

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

263

fashion, and so be-ratled the common Stages (to they call them) that many wearing Rapiers, are affraide of Goofe-quils, and dare scarfe come thither.

Ham. What are they Children? Who maintains 'em? How are they eſcoted? Will they purſue the Qualitie no longer then they can ſing? Will they not ſay afterwards if they should grow themſelues to common Players (as it is like moſt if their meaneſ are no better) their Writers do them wrong, to make them exclaim their owne Suſeſſion.

Rosin. Faith there ha's bene much to do on both fides: and the Nation holds it no finne, to tarre them to Controuerſie. There was for a while, no mony bid for argu-ment, vnleſſe the Poet and the Player went to Cuffes in the Quetion.

Ham. Is't poffible?

Guild. Oh there ha's beene much throwing about of Braines.

Ham. Do the Boyes carry it away ?

Rosin. I that they do my Lord, Hercules & his load too.

Ham. It is not ſtrange: for mine Vnckle is King of Denmarke, and that of which would make mowes at him while my Father liued; giue twenty, forty, an hundred Ducates a peecce, for his picture in Little. There is some thing in this more then Naturall, if Philofophie could finde it out.

Flourish for the Players.

Guil. There are the Players.

Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcom to Eſonower: your hands, come: The appurtenance of Welcome, is Fash ion and Ceremony. Let me comply with you in the Garbe, left my extent to the Players (which I tell you muſt ſhow fairly outward) ſhould more appeare like entertainment then yours. You are welcome : but my Vnckle Father, and Aunt Mother are deceiu'd.

Guil. In what my deere Lord?

Ham. I am but mad North, North-Weſt : when the Winde is Southerly, I know a Hawke from a Handſaw.

Enter Polonius.

Pol. Well be with you Gentlemen.

Ham. Hearke you Guildenſterne, and you too: at each eare a hearer : that great Baby you ſee there, is not yet out of his ſwathing clouts.

Rosin. Happily he's the ſecond time come to them: for they ſay, an old man is twice a childe.

Ham. I will Propheſe. Hee comes to tell me of the Players. Mark it, you ſay right Sir: for a Monday moring 'twas ſo indeed.

Pol. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you.

Ham. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you.

When Roffius an Actor in Rome—

Pol. The Actors are come hither my Lord.

Ham. Buzze, buzze.

Pol. Vpon mine Honor.

Ham. Then can each Actor on his Aſſe—

Polon. The beſt Actors in the world, either for Trage- die, Comedie, Hiftoricie, Paſtorall: Paſtoricall-Comicall- Hiftoricall-Paſtorall: Tragicall-Hiftoricall: Tragicall- Comicall-Hiftoricall-Paſtorall: Scene inuible, or Po- em vnlimited. Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light, for the law of Writ, and the Liberty. Theſe are the only men.

Ham. O Iephta Iudge of Israel, what a Treasure had't thou?

Pol. What a Treasure had he, my Lord?

Ham. Why one faire Daughter, and no more,

The which he loued paffing well.

Pol. Still on my Daughter.

Ham. Am I not i'th'right old Iephta?

Polon. If you call me Iephta my Lord, I have a daugh- ter that I loue paffing well.

Ham. Nay that followes not.

Polon. What followes then, my Lord?

Ham. Why, As by lot, God wot; and then you know, It came to paffe, as moſt like it was: The ſirſt rowe of the Pons Chanſon will ſhow you more. For looke where my ABRIDGEMENTS come.

Enter ſoure or ſine Players.

Y'are welcome Maſters, welcome all. I am glad to ſee thee well; Welcome good Friends, O my olde Friene ? Thy face is valiant ſince I ſaw thee laſt : Com'th thou to beard me in Denmarke ? What, my yong Lady and Mi- flis? Byrlady your Ladifip is neerer Heauen then when I ſaw you laſt, by the altitude of a Choppine. Pray God your voice like a peecce of vncurrant Gold be not crack'd within the ring. Maſters, you are all welcome: wee'l e'ne to't like French Faulconers, ſing at any thing we ſee: wee'l have a Speech ſtraight. Come giue vs a taſt of your quay- lity: come, a paffionate ſpeech.

1. Play. What ſpeech, my Lord?

Ham. I heard thee ſpeak me a ſpeech once, but it was neuer Acted: or if it was, not abouſe once, for the Play. I remember pleas'd not the Million, 'twas Cauarietie to the Generall: but it was (as I receiu'd it, and others, whoſe iudgement in ſuch matters, cric'd in the top of mine) an excellent Play; well digeſted in the Scenes, ſet downe with as much modeſtie, as cunning. I remembet one ſaid, there was no Sallets in the lines, to make the matter ſa- ntuoury; nor no matter in the phraſe, that might indite the Author of affectation, but cal'd it an honest method. One cheeſe Speech in it, I cheeſely lou'd, 'twas Aneas Tale to Dido, and thereabout of it especially, where he ſpeaks of Priams ſlaughter. If it liue in your memory, begin at this Line, let me ſee, let me ſee: The rugged Pyrrhus, ke- th'Hyrcanian Beaſt. It is not ſo: it begins with Pyrrhus The rugged Pyrrhus, he whoſe Sable Armes Blacke as his purpose, did the night reſembl e When he lay couched in the Ominous Horie, Hath now this dread and blacke Complexion ſmeard' With Heraldry more diſmal: Head to ſtoot Now is he to take Geuilles, horribly Trick'd With blood of Fathers, Mothers, Daughters; Sonnes, Bak'd and impaſt ed with the parching ſtreets, That lend a tyrannous, and damned light To their vilde Murthers, roaſhed in wrath and fire, And thus o're-fized with coagulate gore, VWith eyes like Carbuncles, the heliſh Pyrrhus Old Grandſire Priam ſeeke's.

Pol. Fore God, my Lord, well ſpoken, with good ac- cent, and good diſereion.

1. Player. Anon he findes him, Striking too ſhort at Greekes. His anticke Sword, Rebellious to his Arme, lyes where it falles Repugnant to command: vnequall match, Pyrrhus at Priam diuſes, in Rage ſtrikes wide: But with the whiffe and winde of his ſell Sword, Th'vnnerued Father falls. Then ſenſeleſe Illium, Seeming to ſeele his blow, with ſlaming top Stoopes to his Bace, and with a hideous craſh Takes Prifoner Pyrrhus eare. For loe, his Sword Which was declining on the Milkie head Of Reuerend Priam, ſeem'd i'th'Arty to ſtieke:

So

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

264

So as a painted Tyrant *Pyrbus* flood,
And like a Newtrall to his will and matter, did nothing.
But as we often see againſt ſome ſtorme,
A ſilence in the Heauens, the Racke ſtand ſtill,
The bold windes ſpeechleſſe, and the Orbe below
A ſhufh as death: Anon the dreadfull Thunder
Doth rend the Region. So after *Pyrbus* paſſe,
A ro wſed Vengeance ſets him new a-woſte,
And neuer did the Cyclops hammers fall
On Mars his Armours, ſorg’d for proofe Eterne,
With leſſe remorſe then *Pyrbus* bleeding ſword
Now falles on *Priam*.
Out, out, thou Strumpet-Fortune, all you Gods,
In generall Synod take away her power:
B eake all the Spokes and Fallies from her wheelc,
And boule the round Naue downe the hill of Heauen,
As low as to the Fiends.

*Pol.* This is too long.

*Ham.* It ſhall to’th Barbars, with your beard. Prythee ſay on: He’s for a Ligge, or a tale of Baudry, or hee ſleepes. Say on; come to *Hecuba*.

1. *Play.* But who, O who, had ſeen the inobled Queen,
   *Ham.* The inobled Queene?

*Pol.* That’s good: Inobled Queene is good.

1. *Play.* Run bare-foot vp and downe,
Threatning the flame
With Biffon Rheume: A clout about that head,
Where late the Diadem ſtood, and for a Robe
About her lanke and all ore-teamed Loines,
A blanker in th’Alarum of ſeare caught vp.
Who this had ſeene, with tongue in Venome ſleep’d,
’Gainſt Fortunes State, would Treason haue pronounc’d?
But if the Gods themſelues did ſee her then,
When ſhe ſaw *Pyrbus* make malicious ſport
In mincing with his Sword her Husbands limbes,
The inſant Burſt of Clamour that ſhe made
(Voſſele things mortall moue them not at all)
Would haue made milche the Burning eyes of Heauen,
And paffion in the Gods.

*Pol.* Looke where he ha’s not turn’d his colour, and
ha’s teares in’s eyes. Pray you no more.

*Ham.* ’Tis well, Ile haue thee ſpeake out the reſt,
ſoone. Good my Lord, will you ſee the Players well be-
ſtow’d. Doye heare, let them be well vs’d: for they are
the Abfraſts and breſe Chronicles of the time. After
your death, you were better haue a bad Epitaph, then
their ill report while you liued.

*Pol.* My Lord, I will vſe them according to their de-
fart.

*Ham.* Gods bodykins man, better. Vſe euere man
after his deart, and who ſhould ſape whipping: vſe
them after your own Honor and Dignity. The leſſe they
derſue, the more merit is in your bountie. Take them
in.

*Pol.* Come first.

Exit Polon.

*Ham.* Follow him Friends: wee’ll heare a play to mor-
row. Doſt thou heare me old Friend, can you play the
murther of Gonzago?

*Play.* I my Lord.

*Ham.* Wee’ll ha’t to morrow night. You could for a
need fludy a ſpeech of ſome doſen or ſixteene lines, which
I would let downe, and inſert in’t? Could ye not?

*Play.* I my Lord.

*Ham.* Very well. Follow that Lord, and looke you
mock him nor. My good Friends, Ile leaue you til night
you are welcome to Elſonover ?

*Rosin.* Good my Lord.

*Maner Hamlet.*

Exeunt.

*Ham.* I ſo, God buy’ye: Now I am alone.
Oh what a Rogue and Pefant ſlaue am I?
Is it not monſtrous that this Player heere,
But in a Fixion, in a dreame of Paffion,
Could force his ſoule ſo to his whole conceit,
That from her working, all his viſage warm’d;
Teares in his eyes, diſtraCTION in’s Alpeſt,
A broken voyce, and his whole Function ſuiting
With Formes, to his Conceit? And all for nothing?
For *Hecuba*?

*What’s Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,*
That he ſhould weepe for her? What would he doe,
Had he the Motiue and the Cue for paffion
That I haue? He would droune the Stage with teares,
And cleaue the generall eare with horrid ſpeech:
Make mad the guilty, and apale the free,
Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed,
The very faculty of Eyes and Eares. Yet I,
A dull and muddy-metled Rafcall, ſpeake
Like Iohn a-dreames, vnpregnant of my caufe,
And can ſay nothing: No, not for a King,
Vpon whole property, and moſt deere life,
A damn’d defeate was made. Am I a Coward?
Who calles me Villaine ſbreakes my pate a-croſſe?
Pluckes oſſ my Beard, and bloweſ it in my face;
Tweakes me by’ch’Noſe? giues me the Lye i’ch’Throate,
As-deepe as to the Lungs? Who does me this?
Ha? Why I ſhould take it: for it cannot be,
But I am Pigeon-Luier’d, and lacke Gall
To make Oppreſſion bitter, or cre this,
I ſhould haue fatted all the Region Kites
With this Slaves Oſfall, cloudy: a Bawdy villaine,
Remorſeleſſe, Treacherous, Letcherous, kindles villaine
Oh Vengeance!

*Who? What an Aſſe am I? I ſure, this is moſt brave,*
*That I, the Sonne of the Deere murthered,*
*Prompted to my Reuenge by Heauen, and Hell,*
*Muſt (like a Whore) vnpacke my heart with words,*
*And fall a Curiſing like a very Drab,*
*A Scullion? Fye vpon’t: Foh. About my Braine.*
*I haue heard, that guilty Creatures fitting at a Play,*
*Haue by the very cunning of the Scene,*
*Bene ſkooke ſo to the ſoule, that preſently
*They haue proclaim’d their Maleſactions.*
*For Murther, though it haue no tongue, will ſpeake*
*With moſt mycraculous Organ. He haue theſe Players,*
*Play ſomething like the murder of my Father,*
*Before mine Vnkle. Ile obſerue his lookes,*
*Ile tent him to the quicke: If he but blench
*I know my courſe. The Spirit that I haue ſeene*
*May be the Diuell, and the Diuel hath power*
*Taffume a pleaſing ſhape, yea and perhaps*
*Out of my Weakneſſe, and my Melancholly,*
*As he is very potenti with ſuch Spirits,*
*Abufes me to damme me. Ile haue grounds*
*More Relatiue then this: The Play’s the thing,*
*Wherein Ile catch the Conſcience of the King.*

*Exit*

*Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Re-
finerance, Guildenstern, and Lords.*

*King.* And can you by no drift of circumstance
Get from him why he puts on this Confuſion:
Grating ſo harmfully all his dayes of quiet

With

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

265

With turbulent and dangerous Lunacy.

Rosin. He does confesse he feeles himselfe diftracted,
But from what cause he will by no means speake.

Guil. Nor do we finde him forward to be founded,
But with a crafty Madneſſe keepeſt aloofe:
When we would bring him on to some Confession
Of his true ſtate.

Qu. Did he receive you well?

Rosin. Moſt like a Gentleman,

Gild. But with much forcing of his dispoſition.

Rosin. Niggard of queſtion, but of our demands
Moſt free in his reply.

Qu. Did you affay him to any paſtime?

Rosin. Madam, it so fell out, that certaine Players
We ore-wrought on the way : of theſe we told him,
And there did ſeeme in him a kinde of joy
To heare of it: They are about the Courts,
And (as I thinke) they haue already order
This night to play before him.

Pol. 'Tis moſt true:
And he beſeech'd me to intreate your Maietieſ
To heare, and fee the matter.

King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me
To heare him so inclin'd. Good Gentlemen,
Gieue him a further edge, and drive his purpose on
To theſe delights.

Rosin. We ſhall my Lord.

Exeunt.

King. Sweet Gertrude leaue vs too,
For we haue closely ſent for Hamlet hither,
That he, as 'twere by accident, may there
Affront Ophelia. Her Father, and my ſelfe (lawful espials)
Will be to ſeew our ſelues, that ſeeing vnſene
We may of their encounter frankly iudge,
And gather him, as he is behaued,
If he th' affliction of his loue, or no.

That thus he ſuffers for:

Qu. I ſhall obey you,
And tor your part Ophelia, I do wifh
That your good Beauties be the happy caufe

Of Hamlets wardenſe: ſo ſhall I hope your Vertues
Will bring him to his wonted way againe,
To both your Honors.

Ophe. Madam, I wifh it may.
Pol. Ophelia, walke you heere. Gracious ſo please ye
We will beſtow our ſelues: Reade on this booke,
That ſhew of ſuch an exercise may colour
Your loneliness. We are oft too blame in this,
'Tis too much prou'd, that with Deuotions village,
And pious Action, we do ſurge o're
The diuell himſelfe.

King. Oh'tr is true:
How ſmang a laſh that ſpeech doth give my Conſience?
The Hailots Cheeke beauted with plaſt'ring Art
Is not more vgly to the thing that helps it,
Then is my decede, to my moſt painted word.
Oh heauie burthen !

Pol. I heare him comming let his withdraw my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the Quſtion:
How 'tis Nobler in the minde to ſuffer.
The Slings and Arrowes of outragions Fortune,
Or to take Armes againſt a Sea of troubles,
And by oppoſing end them: to dye, to ſleep.
No more; and by a ſleepe, to ſay we end.
The Heart-ake, and the thoufand Naturall ſhockes

That Fleſh his heyre too? 'Tis a conſummation

Deuoutly to be wifh'd. To dye to ſleep,
To ſleep, perchance to Dreame; 1, there's the rub,
For in that ſleep of death, what dreames may come,
When we haue shuffleſl'd off this mortall coile,
Moft giue vs pawle. There's the reſpect

That makes Calamity of ſo long life:
For who would beare the Whips and Scornes of time,
The Oppreſſors wrong, the poore mans Contrueſuly,
The pangs of diſpriz'd Loue, the Lawes delay,
The inſolence of Office, and the Spurnes
That patient merit of the vnworthy takes,

When he himſelfe might his *Quætus* make
With a bare Bodkin? Who would theſe Fardles beare
To grunt and wreathe under a weary life,

But that the dread of ſomething after death,
The vodilcouered Countrey, from whose Borne
No Traveller returns, Puzels the will,

And makes vs rather beare theſe illes we haue,
Then flye to others that we know not of.

Thus Conſcience does make Cowards of vs all,
And thus the Native hew of Reſolution

Is ſkiffled o're, with the pale cait of Thought,
And enterprizes of great pith and moment,
With this regard their Currants turne away,
And looke the name of Action. Soft you now,
The faire Ophelia? Nimph, in thy Orizons
Be all my finnes remembred.

Ophe. Good my Lord,

How does your Honor for this many a day?

Ham. I humbly thanke you: well, well, well.

Ophe. My Lord, I haue Remembraures of yours,
That I haue longed long to re-deliver.
I pray you now, receive them.

Ham. No, no, I neuer gue you ought.

Ophe. My honor'd Lord, I know right well you did,
And with them words of ſo wright breath compos'd,
As made the things more rich, then perfume left:

Take theſe againe, for to the Noble minde

Rich GIFES wax poore, when givers proue vnkinde.

There my Lord.

Ham. Ha, ha: Are you Honest?

Ophe. My Lord,

Ham. Are you faire?

Ophe. What means your Lordship?

Ham. That if you be honest and faire, your Honesty
flou'd admit no discourſe to your Beautie.

Ophe. Could Beautie my Lord, haue better Comorſe
than your Honestie?

Ham. I trulie: for the power of Beautie, will sooner
transforme Honestie from what it is, to a Bawd, then the
force of Honestie can transſare Beautie into his likeuſt.
This was sometime a Paradox, but now the time gives it
proofe. I did loue you once.

Ophe. Indeed my Lord, you made me beleene ſo.

Ham. You should not haue bekeued me: For verue
cannot ſo innoculate our old ſlocke, but we ſhall telliſh
of it. I loued you not.

Ophe. I was the more deceiued.

Ham. Get thee to a Nunnerie. Why would't thou
be a breeder of Sinners? I am my ſelfe in different honestie,
but yet I could accuſe me of ſuch things, that it were bet-
ter my Mother had not borne me. I am very prou'd,
re-uengefull, Ambitious, with more offences at my becke,
than I haue thoughts to put them in imagination, to giue
them shape, or time to acte them in. What should ſuch
Fel-

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

266

Fellowes as I do, crawling betweene Heauen and Earth.
We are arrant Knaves all, because none of vs. Goethy
wayes to a Nunnery. Where's your Father?

Ophe. At home, my Lord.

Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may
play the Fool, no way, but in his owne houſe. Farewell.

Ophe. O helpe him, you sweet Heauens.

Ham. If thou doest Marry, I'll give thee this Plague
for thy Dowrie. Be thou as chast as Ice, as pure as Snow,
thou shall not escape Calumny. Get thee to a Nunnery.
Go, Farewell. Or if thou will needs Marry, marry a fool:
for Wives men know well enough, what monſters you
make of them. To a Nunnery go, and quickly too. Far-
well.

Ophe. O heauenly Powers, reſtore him.

Ham. I have heard of your prating too well enough.
God has giuen you one pace, and you make your ſelfe an-
other: you gidge, you amble, and you liſpe, and nickname
Gods creatures, and make your Wantonneſſe, your Iſ-
norance. Go too, Ile no more on't, it hath made me mad.
I ſay, we will have no more Marriages. Thoſe that are
married already, all but one shall liue, the reſt shall keep
as they are. To a Nunnery, go.

Exit Hamlet.

Ophe. O what a Noble minde is heere o're-throwne?
The Courtiers, Soldiers, Scholiers: Eye, tongue, ſword,
Th'expectanſe and Rose of the faire State,
The glaſſe of Eashion, and the mould of For me,
Th'obferu'd of all Obferuers, quite, quite downe,
Hae I of Ladies moſt delect and wretched,
That fuck'd the Honie of his Mulſicke Vowes :
Now fee that Noble, and moſt Soueraigne Reaſon,
Like weet Bels tangled out of tune, and haſh,
That vnmatch'd Forne and Feature of blowne youth,
Blaſted with extaſſe. Oh woe is me,
Th'aus ſeene what haue ſeene: ſee what I ſee.

Enter King, and Polonius.

King. Loue ? His affections do not that way tend,
Nor what he ſpake, though it lack'd Forne a little,
Was not like Madneſſe. There's something in his ſoule
? O're which his Melancholly fits on broad,
And I do doubt the hatch, and the ducſloſe
Will be ſome danger, which to prevent
I haue in quicke determination
Thus ſet it downe. He ſhall with ſpeed to England
For the demand of our neglected TrIBUTE :
Haply the Seas and Countries different
With a variable Obieſt, shall expell the
This ſomeſhing ſeled matter in his hearte. How
Whereon his Braintes ſill bearing, puts him thus
From fashion of himselfe. What thinke you ?

Doe. It ſhall do well. But yet do I believe
The Origin and Commencement of this greene
Sprung from neglected loue, How now Ophelia ?
You need not thinkes, what Lord Hamlet ſaide,
We heard it at my Lord, do as you please,
But if you hold it in fit after the Play,
Let his Queene Mother all alone intreat him
To ſhow his Greeſes, let her be round with him,
And he be plac'd, if please you in the ear
Of all their Conference, if he ſinde him not,
To England ſend him. Or, if he ſinde him where
Your wife does be, I ſtill thinke.

Madneſſe in great Ones, muſt not vnwatch'd go.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet, and two or three of the Players.

Ham. Speake the Speech I pray you, as I pronoun'd
it to you trippingly on the Tongue: But if you mouu it,
as many of your Players do, I had as like the Town-Cryer
had ſpoke my Lines: Nor do not ſaw the Ayre too much
your hand thus, but vie all gently; for in the verie Tor-
rent, Tempeſt, and (as I may ſay) the Whistle-winde of
Paſſion, you muſt acquire and beget a Temperance that
may giue it Smoothneſſe. O ſt offends me to the Soule,
to fee a robuſtious Pery-wig-pated Fellow, teare a Paſſ-
on to tatters, to verie ragges, to ſplit the eares of the
Groundlings: who (for the moſt part) are capable of
nothing, but inexplicable dumbe ſlewes, & noſe! I could
haue ſuch a Fellow whipt for o're-doing Termagant: it
out-Herod's Herod. Pray you anoid it.

Player. I warrant your Honor.

Ham. Be not too tame neyther: but let your owne
Difcretion be your Tutor. Sute the Action to the Word,
the Word to the Action, with this speciall obliuance:
That you ore-flop not the modeſtie of Nature; for any
thing ſo ouer-done, is ſiſ the purpofe of Playing, whole
end both at the first and now, was and is, to hold as twer
the Mirrour up to Nature; to ſhow Vertue her owne
Feature, Scorne her owne Image, and the verie Age and
Bodie of the Time, his forme and preſſure. Now, this
ouer-done, or come tardie off, though it make the vnſkil-
full laugh, cannot but make the ludicious greene? The
censure of the which One, muſt in your allowance o're-
way a whole Theater of Others. Oh, there bee Players
that I haue ſeene Play, and heard others praeife, and that
highly (not to ſpeake it prophaneely) that neyther haue
the accent of Chriſtians, nor the gate of Chriſtian, Pagan,
or Norman, haue ſo strutted and bellowed, that I haue
thought ſome of Natures Iouerney-men had made men:
and not made them well, they imitated Humanity ſo ab-
hominably.

Play. I hope we haue reform'd that indifferently with
vs, Sir.

Ham. O reforme it altogether. And let that
play your Clownes, ſpeake no more then is ſet downe for
them. For there be of them, that will them ſelues langh,
to ſet on ſome quantitie of barren ſpectators to laugh
too, though in the meane time, ſome neceſſary Quoſi-
tion of the Play be then to be considered: that's Villanous,
& ſhewes a moſt pittifull Ambition in the Foole that wies
it. Go make you readie.

Exit Players.

Enter Polonius, Refinncance, and Gudliffeflere.

How now my Lord,

Will the King hear this piece of Worke?

Pol. And the Queene too, and that prefently.

Ham. Bid the Players make haſt.

Exeunt Polonius.

Will you two helpe to haſten them?

Both. We will my Lord.

Enter Horatio.

Ham. What hoa, Horatio?

Hora. Heere sweet Lord, at your ſeruice.

Ham. Horatio, thou art eene as iuſt a man

As ere my Conuſation coap'd withall.

Hora. O my deere Lord.

Ham. Nay, do not thinke I flatter.

For what aduancement may I hope from thee,
That no Reuennew haſt, but thy good spirits

To

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

267

To feed & cloath thee. Why fhold the poor be flatter'd?
No, let the Candied tongue, like absurd pompe,
And crooke the pregnant Hindges of the knee,
Where thrift may follow faining? Doft thou heare,
Since my deere Soule was Miftris of my choyfe,
And could of men diftinguish, her election
Hath feal'd thee for her telfe. For thou haſt bene
As one in suffering all, that suffers nothing.
A man that Fortunes buffets, and Rewards
Hath 'tane with equall Thankes. And bleſt are thofe,
Whole Blood and Iudgement are ſo well co-mingled,
That they are not a Pipe for Fortunes finger,
To found what ſtop the pleafe. Giue me that man,
That is not P affions Slaue, and I will weare him
In my hearts Core: 1, in my Heart of heart,
As I do thee. Something too much of this.
There is a Play to night before the King,
One Sroene of it comes neere the Circumstance
Which I haue told thee, of my Fathers death.
I prythee, when thou fee't that Acte a-foot,
Euen with the verie Comment of my Soule
Obſerue mine Vukle: If his occulted guilt,
Do not it ſelfe vnkennell in one ſpeech,
It is a damned Ghoſt that we haue ſeene :
And my Imaginations are as ſoule
As Vulcans Stythe. Giue him needfull note,
For I mine eyes will riuet to his Face :
And after we will both our iudgements ioyne,
To cenſure of his ſeeming.
Hora. Well my Lord.
If he ſteale ought the whil'th this Play is Playing,
And ſcape deteeting, I will pay the Theft.

Enter King. Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, RofinCrance,
Guldenſterne, and other Lords attendant, with
his Guard carrying Torches. Davis
March. Sound a Flourilb.

Ham. They are comming to the Play : I muſt be idle.
Get you a place.
King. How fares our Cofin Hamlet?
Ham. Excellent Iſtaſh, of the Camelions diſh : I eate
the Ayre promife-cramm'd, you cannot feed Capons ſo.
King. I haue nothing with this anſwer Hamlet, theſe
words are not mine.
Ham. No, nor mine. Now my Lord, you plaid once
i'th'Vniuerſity, you ſay ?
Polon. That I did my Lord, and was accounted a good
Actor.
Ham. And what did you enaſt ?
Pol. I did enaſt Julius Caſar, I was kill'd i'th'Capitol:
Bruſons kill'd me.
Ham. It was a bruite part of him, to kill ſo Capitall a
Calfe there. Be the Players ready?
Rofin. I my Lord, they ſay vpon your patience.
Qu. Come hither my good Hamlet, ſit by me.
Ha. No good Mother, here's Mettle more attraſtive.
Pol. Oh ho, do you marke that ?
Ham. Ladie, ſhall I lye in your Lap ?
Ophe. No my Lord.
Ham. I meane, my Head vpon your Lap ?
Ophe. I my Lord.
Ham. Do you thinke I meant Country matters ?
Ophe. I thinke nothing, my Lord.
Ham. That's a faire thought to ly between Maids legs
Ophe. What is my Lord ?

Ham. Nothing.
Ophe. You are merrie, my Lord?
Ham. Who I ?
Ophe. I my Lord.
Ham. Oh God, your onely ligge-maker: what ſhould
a man do, but be merrie. For I looke you how cheereful-
ly my Mother lookes, and my Father dyed within's two
Houres.
Ophe. Nay, 'tis twice two moneths, my Lord.
Ham. So long? Nay then let the Diuel weare blacke,
for I haue a suite of Sables. Oh Heauens! dye two mo-
neths ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's hope, a
great mans Memorie, may out-lime his life halfe a yeare :
But byrlady he muſt builde Churches then : or eſt he
ſuffer not thinking on, with the Hoby-horſe, whoſe
Epitaph is, For 0, For 0, the Hoby-horſe is forgot.

Hoboyes play. The dambe ſhew enters.
Enter a King and Queene, very louingly : the Queene embra-
cing him. She kneeles, and makes ſhew of Proſtate vnto
him. He takes her vp, and dcclines his head upon her neck.
Layes him downe upon a Banke of Flowers. She ſeeing him
a-sleepe, leaves him. Anon comes in a Fellow, takes off his
Crowne, kiffes it, and powres payſon in the Kings eares, and
Exits. The Queene returnes, findes the King dead, and
makes paſſionate Action. The Payſoner, with ſome two or
three Mutes comes in againe, ſeeming to lament with her.
The dead body is carried away : The Payſoner Wooes the
Queene with Gifts; he ſeemes loath and unwilling awhile,
but in the end, accepts his lote.
Excunt

Ophe. What meanes this, my Lord?
Ham. Marry this is Miching Malicho, that meanes
Micheefe.
Ophe. Belike this ſhew imports the Argument of the
Play?
Ham. We ſhall know by theſe Fellowes: the Players
cannot keepe counſell, they'll tell all.
Ophe. Will they tell vs what this ſhew meant?
Ham. I, or any ſhew that you ſhew him. Bee not
you aſham'd to ſhew, hee'll not ſhame to tell you what it
meanes.
Ophe. You are naught, you are naught, Ile marke the
Play.

Enter Prologue.
For vs, and for our Tragedie,
Heere ſtooping to your Clemencie:
We begg your hearing Patientlie.
Ham. Is this a Prologue, or the Poſe of a Ring?
Ophe. 'Tis briefe my Lord.
Ham. As Womaus loue.

Enter King and his Queene.
King, Full thirtie times hath Phœbus Cart gon round,
Neptunes falt Wafh, and Tellus Orbed ground:
And thirtie dozen Moones with borrowed ſheene,
About the World haue times twelue thirties beene,
Since loue our hearts, and Hymen did our hands
Vnite comutuall, in moſt facred Bands.
Tapp. So many iournies may the Sunne and Moone
Make vs againe count o're, ere loue be done.
But woe is me, you are ſo ſicke of late,
So farre from cheere, and from your forme ſtate,
That I diftruſt you: yet though I diftruſt,
Difcomfort you (my Lord) it nothing muſt :
For womens Feare and Loue, holds quantitie,

In

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

268

In neither ought, or in extremity :

Now what my Loue is, proofe hath made you know,
And as my Loue is fiz'd, my Feare is so.

King. Faith I muſt leaue thee Loue, and ſhortly too :

My operant Powers my Functions leaue to do :

And thou ſhalt line in this faire world behinde,
Honour'd, belou'd, and haply, one as kinde.

For Husband ſhalt thou—

Bap. Oh confound the reſt:

Such Loue, muſt needs be Treaſon in my breſt :

In ſecond Husband, let me be accuſt,

None wed the ſecond, but who kill'd the firſt.

Ham. Wormwood, Wormwood.

Bapt. The inſtances that ſecond Marriage moue,
Are bare reſpects of Thrift, but none of Loue.

A ſecond time, I kill my Husband dead,

When ſecond Husband kiffes me in Bed.

King. I do beleeue you. Think what now you ſpeak :
But what we do determine, oft we breake :

Purpofe is but the ſlue to Memorie,

Of violent Birth, but poore validitie:

Which now like Fruite voripe, ſtickes on the Tree,

But fall vnſhak en, when they mellow bee,

Moft neceſſary 'tis, that we forget

To pay our ſelues, what to our ſelues is debt :

What to our ſelues in paſſion we propoſe,

The paſſion ending, doth the purpofe lobe.

The violence of other Greeſe or Ioy,

Their owne ennaſtors with them ſelues deſtroy :

Where Ioy moſt Reuels, Greeſe doth moſt lament ;

Greeſe ioyes, Ioy greenees on ſlender accident.

This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not ſtrange

That euen our Loues ſhould with our Fortunes change.

For 'tis a question left vs yet to proue,

Whether Loue lead Fortune, or eſſe Fortune Loue.

The great man downe, you marke his fauourites flies,

The poore aduanc'd makes Friends of Enemies :

And hitherto doth Loue on Fortune tend,

For who not needs, shall neuer lacke a Frend :

And who in want a hollow Friend doth try,

Dire & ſtly ſeafons him his Enemie.

But orderly to end, where I begun,

Our Willes and Fates do ſo contrary run,

That our Deuices fill are ouerthrowne,

Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our owne.

So think e thou wilt no ſecond Husband wed.

But die thy thoughts, when thy firſt Lord is dead.

Bap. Nor Earth to giue me food, nor Heauen light,
Sport and repofe locke from me day and night :

Each oppoſite that blankes the face of ioy,

Meet what I would haue well, and it deſtroy :

Both heere, and hence, purſue me laſting ſtrife,

If once a Widdow, euer I be Wife.

Ham. If ſhe should breake it now.

King. 'Tis deeply ſworne:

Sweare, leaue me heere a while,

My ſpirits grow dull, and faine I would beguile

The tedious day with sleepe.

Qu. Sleepe rocke thy Braine,

Sleepeſ

And neuer come mischance betweene vs twaine.

Exit

Ham. Madam, how like you this Play?

Qu. The Lady proteaſt to much me thinkes,

Ham. Oh but ſhewe'll keepe her word.

King. Haue you heard the Argument, is there no Of-
fence in't?

Ham. No, no, they do but ieſt, poyſon in ieſt, no Of-

fence i' th' world.

King. What do you call the Play ?

Ham. The Mouſe-trap : Marry how? Tropically :

This Play is the Image of a murder done in Vittoria: Gen-
zage is the Dukes name, his wife Baptista : you shall fee
anon: 'tis a knauſh peeece of worke : But what of that?
Your Maieſle, and wee that haue free foules, it touches
vs not: let the gall d iade winch: our withers are vnrung.

Enter Lucianus.

This is one Lucianus, neſhew to the King.

Opehe. You are a good Chorus, my Lord.

Ham. I could interpret betweene you and your Loue,
if I could fee the Puppets dallying.

Opehe. You are keene my Lord, you are keene.

Ham. It would coſt you a groaning, to take off my
edge.

Opehe. Still better and worſe.

Ham. So you miſake Husbands.

Begin Murderer. Pox, leaue thy damnable Faces, and
begin. Come, the croaking Rauen doth bellow for Re-
uenge.

Lucian. Thoughts blacke, hands apt,

Drugges fit, and Time agreeing :

Confederate ſeafon, eſſe no Creature feeing:

Thou mixture ranke, of Midnight Weeds collected,
With Hecats Ban, thrice blaſted, thrice inſected,
Thy naturall Magiſe, and dire propertie,
On wholſome life, vnfurpe immediately.

Powers the poyſon in his eares.

Ham. He poyſons him i' th' Garden for's eſtate: His
name's Gonzago: the Story is extant and writ in choyce
Italian. You ſhall fee anon how the Murtherer gets the
Loue of Gonzago's wife.

Opehe. The King rifes.

Ham. What, frighted with ſalſe fire.

Qu. How fares my Lord?

Pol. Giue o'te the Play.

King. Giue me ſome Light, Away.

All. Lights, Lights, Lights.

Exenut

Manet Hamlet & Horatio.

Ham. Why let the ſtrucken Deere go weeppe,
The Hart vngalled play :

For ſome muſt watch, while ſome muſt sleepe;

So runneth the world away.

Would not this Sir, and a Forreſt of Feathers, if the reſt of
my Fortunes turne Turke with me; with two Princuall
Rofes on my rac'd Shooes, get me a Fellowship in a city
of Players fir.

Hor. Halſe a ſhare.

Ham. A whole one I,

For thou doſt know: Oh Damon deere,

This Realme diſmantled was of Loue himselfeſe,

And now reignes heere.

A verie verie Paiocke.

Hora. You might haue Rim'd.

Ham. Oh good Horatio, I'll take the Ghoſts word for
a thouſand pound. Did it perceiue ?

Hora. Verie well my Lord.

Ham. Upon the talke of the poyſoning?

Hora. I did verie well note him.

Enter Rofinrance and Gildenſterne.

Ham. Oh, ha? Come ſome Mufick. Come ſ Recordsers.
For if the King like not the Comedie,
Why then belike he likes it not perſide.

Come ſome Muficke.

Guild. Good my Lord, vouchſaſe me a word with you.
Ham. Good my Lord, vouchſaſe me a word with you.

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

269

Ham. Sir, a whole History.

Guild. The King, sir.

Ham. I fir, what of him ?

Guild. Is in his retirement, marvellous distemper'd,

Ham. With drinke Sir ?

Guild. No my Lord, rather with choller.

Ham. Your wisedome should shew it selfe more tricher, to signifie this to his Doctor: for me to put him to his Purgation, would perhaps plundge him into farre more Choller.

Guild. Good my Lord, put your discourſe into ſome frame, and start not so wildly from my affayre.

Ham. I am tame Sir, pronounce.

Guild. The Queene your Mother, in moſt great affiliaſion of spirit, hath ſent me to you.

Ham. You are welcome.

Guild. Nay, good my Lord, this courtesie is not of the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a whole ſome anſwer, I will doe your Mothers commandment : if not, your pardon, and my returne shall bee the end of my Buſineſſe.

Ham. Sir, I cannot.

Guild. What, my Lord ?

Ham. Make you a whole ſome anſwere: my wits differ'd. But fir, ſuch anſwers as I can make, you ſhal command: or rather you ſay, my Mother: therefore no more but to the matter. My Mother you, say.

Rofin. Then thus ſhe ſayes: your behaviour hath ſtroke her into amazement, and admiration.

Ham. Oh wonderfull Sonne, that can ſo aftonifh a Mother. But is there no ſequell at the heeles of this Mothers admiration ?

Rofin. She deſires to ſpeake with you in her Cloſet, ere you go to bed.

Ham. We ſhall obey, were ſhe ten times our Mother. Haue you any further Trade with vs ?

Rofin. My Lord, you once did loue me.

Ham. So I do ſtill, by theſe pickers and ſtealers.

Rofin. Good my Lord, what is your cauſe of diſtention ? You do freely barre the doore of your owne Liberty, if you deny your greeſes to your Friend.

Ham. Sir I lacke Aduancement.

Ham. How can that be, when you haue the voyce of the King himſelfe, for your Succession in Denmark?

Ham. I, but while the graſſe growes, the Prouerbe is (something muſy).

Enter one with a Recorder.

O the Recorder. Let me fee, to withdraw with you, why do you go about to recover the winde of mee, as if you would drive me into a toyle?

Guild. O my Lord, if my Dutie be too bold, my loue is too vunnamerly.

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

Guild. My Lord, I cannot.

Ham. I pray you.

Guild. Beleeue me, I cannot.

Ham. I do beſeech you.

Guild. I know no touch of it, my Lord.

Ham. 'Tis as eafe as lying: gourner theſe Ventages with your finger and thumbe, giue it breath with your mouth, and it will diſcourſe moſt excellent Muſicke. Looke you, theſe are the ſtopps.

Guild. But theſe cannot. I command to any vtterance of hermony. I haue not the skill.

Ham. Why looke you now, how vnworthy a thing

you make of me: you would play vpon mee; you would ieeme to know my ſtops: you would pluck out the heart of my Myſterie; you would found mee from my loweſt Note, to the top of my Compaffe: and there is much Muſicke, excellent Voice, in this little Organe, yet cannot you make it. Why do you thinke, that I am eſtler to bee plaid on, then a Pipe? Call me what Inſtrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play vpon me. God bleſſe you Sir.

Enter Polonius.

Polon. My Lord, the Queene would ſpeak with you, and preſently.

Ham. Do you fee that Cloud? that's almoſt in shape like a Camell.

Polon. By'th'Mitſe, and it's like a Camell indeed.

Ham. Me thinkes it is like a Weazell.

Polon. It is back'd like a Weazell.

Ham. Or like a Whale ?

Polon. Verie like a Whale.

Ham. Then will I come to my Mother, by and by: They ſoole me to the top of my bent. I will come by and by.

Polon. I will ſay so.

Exit.

Ham. By and by, is eſtily ſaid. Leave me Friends: 'Tis now the verie witching time of night, When Churchyards yawne, and Hell it ſelfe breaths out Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood, And do ſuch bitter buſineſſe as the day Would quaske to looke on. Soft now, to my Mother: Oh Heart, looke not thy Nature; let not euer The Soule of Nere, enter this ſimme boſome: Let me be cruel, not vn natural, I will ſpeake Daggers to her, but vſe none: My Tongue and Soule in this be Hypocrites. How in my words someuer ſhe be ſhent, To giue them Scales, neuer my Soule conſent.

Enter King, Rofinurance, and Cuildersſterne.

King. I like him not, nor stands it ſafe with vs, To let his madneſſe range. Therefore prepare you, I your Commission will forthwith dispatch, 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.

Gild. We will our ſelues prouide: Moſt holie and Religious ſeare it is To keepe theſe many many bodies ſafe That liue and feede upon your Maiestie. Rofin. The ſingle And peculiar life is bound With all the ſtrength and Armour of the minde, To keepe it ſelfe from noyance: but much more, That ſpirit, vpon whose ſpirit depends and reſt The liues of many, the ceaſe of Maiestie Dies not alone; but like a Gulſe doth draw What's neere it, with it. It is a maffie wheelc Fixt on the Somnet of the highe Mount, To whose huge Spoakes, ten thouſand leſer things Are mortiz'd and adioyn'd: which when it falles, Each ſmall annexment, pettie conſequence Attends the boyſtrous Ruine. Neuer alone Did the King ſiſhe, but with a generall groane.

King. Arme you, I pray you to this ſpeedie Voyage; For we will Fetters put vpon this ſeare,

P.P.

Which

The Tragedie of Hamlet.

Which now goes too free-footed.

Both. We will haſte vs.

Enter Polonius.

Pol. My Lord, he's going to his Mothers Cloſet:
Behinde the Arras Ile conuey my ſelfe
To heare the Proceſſe. Ile warrant ſheel tax him home,
And as you ſaid, and wifely was it ſaid,
'Tis meete that ſome more audience then a Mother,
Since Nature makes them partiall, ſhould o're-heare
The ſpeech of vantage. Fare you well my Liege,
Ile call upon you ere you go to bed,
And tell you what I know.

King. Thanks, decre my Lord,
Oh my offence is ranke, it ſmels to heauen,
It hath the primall eldeſt curſe vpon't,
A Brothers murther. Pray can I not,
Though inclination be as ſharpe as will:
My ſtronger guilt, defeats my ſtrong intent,
And like a man to double buſineſſe bound,
I ſtand in paſſe where I ſhall firſt begin,
And both neglect; what if this curſed hand
Were thicker then it ſelfe with Brothers blood,
Is there not Raine enough in the ſweet Heauens
To waſh it white as Snow? Whereto ſerues mercy,
But to confront the viſage of Offence?
And what's in Prayer, but this two-fold force,
To be ſore ſtalled ere we come to fall,
Or pardon'd being downe? Then Ile looke vp,
My fault is paſt. But oh, what ſorme of Prayer
Can ſerue my turne? Forgiue me my ſoule Murther :
That cannot be, ſince I am ſill poſſet
Of thoſe effects for which I aid the Murther.
My Crowne, mine owne Ambition, and my Queene :
May one be pardon'd, and retaine th'offence ?
In the corrupted curranct of this world,
Offences gilded hand may ſhone by Iuſtice,
And oft 'tis ſeene, the wicked prize it ſelfe
Buyes out the Law; but 'tis not ſo aboue,
There is no ſhuffling, there the Action lyes
In his true Nature, and we our ſelues compell'd
Euen to the teeth and ſforehead of our faults,
To giue in evidence. What then? What reſts?
Try what Repentance can. What can it not?
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?
Oh wretched ſtate! Oh boſome, blacke as death!
Oh limed ſoule, that ſtrugling to be free,
Art more ingag'd: Helpe Angels, make affay :
Bow ſtubborne knees, and heart with ſtrings of Steele,
Be ſoft as finewes of the new-borne Babe,
All may be well.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying,
And now I doo't, and so he goes to Heauen,
And so am I reueng'd: that would be ſean'd,
A Villaine killes my Father, and for that
I his ſoule Sonne, do this ſame Villaine ſend
To heauen. Oh this is hyre and Sallery, not Reuenge.
He tooke my Father groſſely, full of bread,
With all his Crimes broad blowne, as fresh as May,
And how his Audit stands, who knowes, ſaue Heauen:
But in our circumſtance and course of thought
'Tis heauie with him: and am I then reueng'd,
To take him in the purging of his Soule,
When he is fit and ſeafon'd for his paſſage? No.
Vp Sword, and know thou a more horrid hent

When he is drunke aſſleepe: or in his Rage,
Or inth'ineſtuous pleasure of his bed,
At gaming, ſwearing, or about ſome acte
That ha's no reſſill of Saluation in't,
Then trip him, that his heeles may kiemie at Heauen,
And that his Soule may be as damn'd and blacke
As Hell, whereto it goes. My Mother ſayes,
This Phyſicke but prolongs thy ſickly dayes.
King. My words flye vp, my thoughts remaine below,
Words without thoughts, neuer to Heauen go.
Exit.

Enter Queens and Polonius.

Pol. He will come straight:
Looke you lay home to him;
Tell him his prankes haue been too broad to beare with,
And that your Grace hath ſeree'nd, and ſtoode betwene
Much heate, and him. Ile ſilence me eene here:
Pray you be round with him.

Ham. within. Mother, mother, mother.

Qu. Ile warrant you, ſeare me not.

Withdraw, I heare him comming.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Now Mother, what's the matter?

Qu. Hamlet, thou haſt my Father much offended.

Ham. Mother, you haue my Father much offended.

Qu. Come, come, you anſwer with an idle tongue.

Ham. Go, go, you queſtion with an idle tongue.

Qu. Why how now Hamlet?

Ham. What's the matter now?

Qu. Haue you ſorg't me?

Ham. No by the Rood, not ſo:

You are the Queene, your Husbands Brothers wife,
But would you were not ſo. You are my Mother.

Qu. Nay, then Ile ſet thofe to you that can ſpeake.

Ham. Come, come, and fit you downe, you ſhall not
boudge:

You go not till I ſet you vp a glaſſe,

Where you may fee the inmoſt part of you?

Qu. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murther me?
Helpe, helpe, hoa.

Pol. What hoa, helpe, helpe, helpe.

Ham. How now, a Rat? dead for a Ducate, dead.

Pol. Oh I am flaine.

Killes Polonius.

Qu. Oh me, what haſt thou done?

Ham. Nay I know not, is it the King?

Qu. Oh what a rafh, and bloody deed is this?

Ham. A bloody deed, almoſt as bad good Mother,
As kill a King, and marrie with his Brother.

Qu. As kill a King?

Ham. I Lady, 'twas my word.

Thou wretched, rafh, intruding foole farewell,
I tooke thee for thy Betters, take thy Fortune,
Thou find't to be too bufſe, is ſome danger.
Leave wringing of your hands, peace, fit you downe,
And let me wring your heart, for so I ſhall
If it be made of penetrable ſtuffe;
If damned Cuftome haue not braz'd it ſo,
That it is proofe and bulwarke againſt Senſe.

Qu. What haue I done, that thou dar't wag thy tong,
In noſe ſo rude againſt me?

Ham. Such an Aſt

That blurres the grace and bluſh of Modeſtie,
Cals Vertue Hypocrite, takes off the Rofe
From the faire ſforehead of an innocent loue,
And makes a blifter there. Makes marriage vowes
As ſalſe as Dicers Oathes. Oh ſucha deed,

A

The Tragedie of Cymbeline.

381

Is falne into thy care? What falfe Italian,
(As poytonous tongu'd,as handed)hath preuail'd
On thy too ready hearing? Disloyall? No.
She's punif'h'd for her Truth; and vndergoes
More Goddeffe-like,then Wife-like; such Affaultes
As would take in some Vertue. Oh my Master,
Thy mind to her, is now as lowe, as were
Thy Fortunes. How? That I should murther her,
Vpon the Loue, and Truth, and Yowes; which I
Hae made to thy command? I her? Her blood?
If it be so, to do good feruice, never
Let me be counted feruiceable. How looke I,
That I should feeme to lacke humanity,
So much as this Fact comes to? Doo't? The Letter,
That I hae sent her, by her owne command,
Shall gine thee opportunitie. Oh damn'd paper,
Blacke as the Ink that's on thee: senſenſſe bauble,
Art thou a Fœdatic for this Act; and look it
So Virgin-like without? Loe here ſhe comes.

Enter Imogen.

I am ignorant in what I am commanded.

Imo. How now Pisanio?

Pis. Madam, here is a Letter from my Lord.

Imo. Who, thy Lord? That is my Lord Leonatus?
Oh, learn'd indeed were that Astronomer
That knew the Starres, as I his Characters,
Heel'd lay the Future open. You good Gods,
Let what is heere contain'd, rellifh of Loue,
Of my Lords health, of his content : yet not
That we two are aſduer, let that grieue him;
Some griefes are medicable, that is one of them,
For it doth phyſicke Loue, of his content,
All but in that. Good Wax, thy leaue: bleſt be
You Bees that make theſe Lockes of counſaile. Louers,
And men in dangerous Bondes pray not alike,
Though Forſeytours you cauſt in prifor; yet
You claspe young Cupids Tables: good Newes Gods.

I Vſice, and your Fathers wrath (should he take me in his
Dominion) could not be so cruell to me, as you: (oh the deere
rest of Creatures) would ene now me with your eyes. Take
notice that I am in Cambria at Milford-Hauen: what your
owne Loue, will out of this aduife you, follow. So he wishes you
all happiſſe, that remaine loyall to his Vow, and your encrea-
ſing in Lone.
Leonatus Poſthumus.

Oh for a Horſe with wings: Hear it thou Pisanio?
He is at Milford-Hauen: Read, and tell me
How farre'tis thither. If one of meane affaires
May plod it in a weeke, why may not I
Glide thither in a day? Then true Pisanio,
Who long'ſt like me, to see thy Lord; who long'ſt
(Oh let me bate) but not like me: yet long'ſt
But in a fainter kinde. Oh not like me:
For mine's beyond, beyond: ſay, and ſpeake thicke
(Loues Counſailor ſhould fill the bores of hearing,
To'th'mothering of the Senſe) how farre it is
To this fame bleſſed Milford. And by'th'way
Tell me how Wales was made ſo happy, as I
T'inherite ſuch a Hauen. But firſt of all,
How we may ſteale from hence: and for the gap
That we ſhall make in Time, from our hence-going,
And our returne, to excufe: but firſt, how ger hence.
Why ſhould excufe be borne or ere begot?
Weeke talke of that hereafter. Prythee ſpeake,
How many ſtore of Miles may we well rid

Twixt houre, and houre?

Pis. One core'twixt Sun, and Sun,
Madam's enough for you: and too much too.

Imo. Why, one that rode to's Excution Man,
Could neuer go so flow: I haue heard of Riding wagers,
Where Horſes haue bin nimbler then the Sands
That run i'th'Clocks behalfe. But this is Foolrie,
Go, bid my Woman faigne a Sickneſſe, ſay
She'll e home to her Father; and provide me preſently
A Riding Suit: No coſtlier then would fit
A Franklins Hufwife.

Tisſa. Madam, you're beſt confider.

Imo. I see before me (Man) nor heree, not heree:
Nor whataſenes but haue a Fog in them
That I cannot looke through. Awa,y I prythee,
Do as I bid thee: There's no more to ſay:
Accesſible is none but Milford way.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Aruagus.

Bel. A goodly day, not to keepe houſe with ſuch,
Whole Roome's as lowe as ours: Sleepe Boyes, this gate
Inſtruets you how t'adore the Heauens; and bowes you
To a mornings holy office. The Gates of Monarches
Are Arch'd ſo high, that Giants may iet through
And keepe their impious Turbonds on, without
Good morrow to the Sun. Haile thou faire Heauen,
We houſe i'th'Rocke, yet vſe thee not ſo hardly
As prouder liners do.

Guid. Haile Heauen.

Arua. Haile Heauen.

Bela. Now for our Mountaine ſport, vp to yond hill
Your legges are yong: Ile tread theſe Flats. Confider,
When you abcue perceiue me like a Crow,
That it is Place, which leſſen's, and ſets off,
And you may then reuolue what Tales, I haue told you,
Of Counſts, of Princes; of the Tricks in Warre.
This ſeruice is not ſeruice; ſo being done,
But being ſo allowed. To apprehend thus,
Drawes vs a profit from all things we ſee:
And often to our comfort; ſhall we finde
The ſharded-Beetle, in a ſafer hold
Then is the full-wing'd Eagle. Oh this life,
Is Nobler, then attending for a checke:
Richer, then doing nothing for a Babe:
Prouder, then ruffling in vnpayd-for Silke:
Such gaine the Cap of him, that makes him fine,
Yet keepe his Booke vncrens'd: no life to ours.

Gui. Out of your proofe you ſpeak: we poore vnſledg'd
Have neuer wing'd from view o'th'neſt; nor knowes nor
What Ayre's from home. Happly this life is beſt,
(If quiet life be beſt) ſweeter to you
That haue a ſharper knowne. Well correfponding
With your ſtiffe Age; but vnto vs, it is
A Cell of Ignorance: trauailing a bed,
A Prifon, or a Debtor, that not dares
To ſride a limit.

Aruis. What should we ſpeake of
When we are old as you? When we ſhall heare
The Raine and winde beate darke December? How
In this our pinching Caue, ſhall we diſcouerse

aaa 3

The

The Tragedy of Cymbeline.

384

Alacke no remedy) to the greedy touch
Of common-kissing Titan: and forget
Your labourfome and dainty Trimmes, wherein
You made great Imo angly.

Imo. Nay be briece?

I fee into thy end, and am almost
A man already.

Pis. Firſh, make your ſelfe but like one,
Fore-thinking this. I haue already fit
(Tis in my Cloake-bagge) Doublet, Hat, Hofe, all
That anſwer to them: Would you in their ſeruing,
(And with what imitation you can borrow
From youth of ſuch a ſaſon) Tore Noble Lucius
Prefent your ſelfe, deſire his ſeruice: tell him
Wherein you're happy; which will make him know,
If that his head haue care in Muſſcke, doubtleſſe
With ioy he will imbrace you: for hee's Honourable,
And doubling that, moſt holy. Your meanees abroad:
You haue me rich, and I will neuer faile
Beginning, nor ſupplyment.

Imo. Thou art all the comfort
The Gods will diet me with, Prythee away,
There's more to be confider'd: but wee Ieuen
All that good time will giue vs. This attempt,
I am Souldier too, and will abide it with
A Princes Courage. Away, I prythee.

Pis. Well Madam, we must take a ſhort farewell,
Leaſt being miſt, I be ſuspeſted of
Your carriage from the Court. My Noble Milſris,
Heere is a boxe, I had it from the Queene,
What's in't is precious: If you are ſicke at Sea,
Or Stomacke-qualm'd at Land, a Dramme of this
Will diuie away diſtemper. To ſome ſhade,
And fit you to your Manhood: may the Gods
Direct you to the beſt.

Imo. Amen: I thank thee.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quinta.

Enter Cymbeline, Queene, Cloten, Lucius,
and Lords.

Cym. Thus faire and so farewell.

Luc. Thankes, Royall Sir:

My Emperor hath wrote, I muſt from hence,
And am right ſorry, that I muſt report ye
My Maſters Enemy.

Cym. Our Subjeſts (Sir)

Will not endure his yoke; and for our ſelfe
To ſhow leſſe Suveraignty then they, muſt needs
Appeare vn-Kinglike,

Luc. So Sir: I deſire of you
A Conduct ouer Land, to Milford-Hauen.
Madam, all ioy befall your Grace, and you.

Cym. My Lords, you are appointed for that Office:
The due of Honor, in no point omit:
So farewell Noble Lucius.

Luc. Your hand, my Lord.

Clot. Reſeue it friendly: but from this time forth
I weare it as your Enemy.

Luc. Sir, the Euent

I yet to name the winner. Fare you well.

Cym. Leaue not the worthy Lucius, good my Lords
Till he haue croſt the Seuern. Happines. Exit Lucius, &c

Qu. He goes hence frowning: but it honours vs
That we haue giuen him caufe.

Clot. 'Tis all the better,
Your valiant Britaines haue their wisheſs in it.

Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the Emperor
How it goes heere. It fits vs therefore ripely
Our Chariots, and our Horſemen be in readineſſe:
The Powres that he already hath in Gallia
Will ſoon be drawne to head, from whence he moues
His warte for Britaine.

Qu. 'Tis not sleepy buſineſſe,
But muſt be look'd too ſpeedily, and strongly.

Cym. Our expeſation that it would be thus
Hath made vs forward. But my gentle Queene,
Where is our Daughteŕ? She hath not appear'd
Before the Roman, nor to vs hath tender'd
The duty of the day. She looke vs like
A thing more made of malice, then of duty,
We haue noted it. Call her before vs, for
We haue beene too ſlight in ſufferance.

Qu. Royall Sir,
Since the exile of Poffhumus, moſt retyr'd
Hath her life bin: the Cure whereof, my Lord,
'Tis time muſt do. Befeech you Maieſtyl,
Forbeare ſharpe ſpeeches to her. Shee's a Lady
So tender of rebukes, that words are ſtroke;
And ſtrokes death to her.

Enter a Meſſenger.

Cym. Where is the Sir? How
Can her contempt be anſwer'd?

Mef. Pleafe you Sir,
Her Chambers are all lock'd, and there's no anſwer
That will be giuen to't: howld of noife, we make.

Qu. My Lord, when laſt I went to viſit her,
She pray'd me to excufe her keeping close,
Where to conftrain'd by her inſirmitie,
She ſhould that dutie leaue vnpaide to you
Which dayly ſhe was bound to proffer: this
She wifh'd me to make knowne: but our great Court
Made me too blane in memory.

Cym. Her doores lock'd?
Not ſeene of late? Grant Heauens, that which I
Feare, proue ſalſe.

Exit.

Qu. Sonne, I lay, follow the King.
Clot. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old Seruant
I haue not ſeene theſe two daies.

Exit.

Qu. Go, looke after:
Pisanio, thou that land'd it for Poffhumus,
He hath a Drugge of mine: I pray, his abſence
Proceed by ſwallowing that. For he beleeues
It is a thing moſt precious. But for her,
Where is the gone? Haply diſpaige hath feiz'd her:
Or wing'd with ſeruour of her loue, ſhe's flowne
To her deſir'd Poffhumus: gone ſhe is,
To death, or to diſhonor, and my end
Can make good vſe of either. Shee being downe,
I haue the placing of the Britiſh Crowne.

Enter Cloten.

How now, my Sonne?

Clot. 'Tis certaine ſhe is fled:
Go in and cheere the King, he rages, none
Dare come about him.

Qu. All the better: may
This night fore-stall him of the comming day. Exit Qu.
Clot. I loue, and hate her: for ſhe's the Faire and Royall,
And that ſhe hath all courtly parts more exquife
Then

The Tragedie of Cymbeline.

Then Lady, Ladies, Woman, from euery one
The best she hath; and the best of all compounded
Out-felles them all. I loue her therefore, but
Difdaining me and throwing Fauours on
The low Poſtbumus, flanders to her iudgement,
That what's else rare, is choak'd: and in that point
I will conclude to hate her, nay indeede,
To be reueng'd upon her. For, when Fooles shall—
Enter Pisanio.

Who is here? What, are you packing firrah?
Come hither: Ah you precious Pandar, Villaine,
Where is thy Lady ? In a word, or else
Thou art straightway with the Fiends.

Pis. Oh, good my Lord.

Clo. Where is thy Lady ? Or, by Jupiter,
I will not aske againe. Cloie Villaine,
He haue this Secret from thy heart, or rip
Thy heart to finde it. Is she with Poſtbumus ?
From whose so many waightes of baseneſſe, cannot
A dram of worth be drawne.

Pis. Alas, my Lord,
How can she be with him ? When was the mifs'd?
He is in Rome.

Clot. Where is the Sir? Come neerer:
No farther halting: fatisſe me home,
What is become of her?

Pis. Oh, my all-worthy Lord.

Clo. All-worthy Villaine,
Difconer where thy Miftris is, at once,
At the next word: no more of worthy Lord:
Speake, or thy ſilence on the instant, is
Thy condemnation, and thy death.

Pis. Then Sir:
This Paper is the hiftorie of my knowledge
Touching her flight.
Clo. Let's see't: I will purſue her
Euen to Anguſtus THRONE.

Pis. Or this, or perſisn.
She's farre enough, and what he learnes by this,
May proue his trauell, not her danger.

Clo. Humh.

Pis. Ile write to my Lord ſhe's dead: Oh Imogen,
Safe mayſt thou wander, ſafe returne agen.

Clot. Sirra, is this Letter true ?

Clo. Sir, as I thinke.
Clot. It is Poſtbumus hand, I know't. Sirrah, if thou
would'ſt not be a Villain, but do me true ſeruice: vnder-
go thofe I mployments wherein I should haue cauſe to vſe
thee with a ſerious induſtry, that is, what villany ſoore I
bid thee do to performe it, directly and trucely, I would
thinke thee an honest man: thou ſhould'ſ neither want
my meanes for thy reſeſe, nor my voyce for thy prefer-
ment.

Pis. Well, my good Lord.

Clot. Wilt thou ſerue mee? For ſince patiently and
conſtantly thou haſt ſucke to the bare Fortune of that
Begger Poſtbumus, thou canſt not in the courſe of grati-
tude, but be a diligent follower of mine, Wilt thou ſerue
mee?

Pis. Sir, I will.

Clo. Giue mee thy hand, heree's my purſe. Haſt any
of thy late Maſters Garments in thy poſſion?

Pisau. I haue (my Lord) at my Lodging, the ſame
Suite he wore, when he tooke the Jaue of my Ladie & Mi-
ſtreſſe.

Clo. The firſt ſeruice thou doſt mee, fetch that Suite

hither, let it be thy firſt ſeruice, go.

Pis. I shall my Lord.

Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Hauen: (I forgot to aske
him one thing, Ile remember't anon:) euen there, thou
villaine Poſtbumus will I kill thee. I would theſe Gar-
ments were come. She ſaide upon a time (the bitterneſſe
of it, I now beſt from my heart) that ſee held the very
Garment of Poſtbumus, in more reſpect, then my Noble
and naturall perſon; together with the adornement of
my Qualities. With that Suite vpon my backe wil I ra-
uſiſh her: firſt kill him, and in her eyes; there ſhall ſhe ſee
my valour, which wil then be a torment to hit contempt.
He on the ground, my ſpeech of inſuſlent ended on his
dead bodie, and when my Luſt hath diſed (which, as I
fay, to vex her, I will execute in the Cloathes that ſhe ſo
praſ'd:) to the Court Ile knock her backe, foot her home
againe. She hath deſpis'd mee reioycingly, and Ile bee
merry in my Reuence.

Enter Pisanio.

Be thatof the Garments?

Pis. I, my Noble Lord.

Clo. How long is't firſt ſhe went to Milford-Hauen?

Pis. She can ſcarſe be there yer.

Clo. Bring this Apparrell to my Chamber, that is
the ſecond thing that I haue commanded thee. The third
is, that thou wilt be a voluntarie Mute to my defiſne. Be
but dutious, and true preferment shall tender it ſelfe to
thee. My Reuence is now at Milford, would I had wings
to follow it. Come, and be true.

Exit.

Pis. Thou bid'ſt me to my loffe: for true to thee,
Were to proue ſalſe, which I will neuer bee
To him that is moſt true. To Milford go,
And finde not her, whom thou purſueth. Flow, flow
You Heauenly bleſſings on her: This Fooles ſpeede
Be croſt with ſlowneſſe; Labour be his meede.

Exit.

## Scena Sexta.

Enter Imogen alone.

Imo. I see a mans life is a tedious one,
I haue tyr'd my ſelfe: and for two nights together
Haue made the ground my bed. I should be ſiſke,
But that my resolution helps me: Milford,
When from the Mountaine top, Pisanio ſhew'd thee,
Thou was't within a kenne. Oh Loue, I thinke
Foundations flye the wretched: ſuch I meane,
Where they ſhould be reueng'd. Two Beggers told me,
I could not miffle my way. Will poore Folkes lye
That have Affiſions on them, knowing 'tis
A puniſhment, or Triall? Yes; no wonder,
When Rich-ones ſcarſe tell true. To lap ſe in Fulneſſe
Is forer, then to lye for Neede: and Falſhood
Is worſe in Kings, then Beggers. My deere Lord,
Thou art one o'th'ſalſe Ones: Now I thinke on thee,
My hunger's gone; but euen before, I was
At point to ſinke, for Food. But what is this?
Heere is a path too't: 'tis ſome ſauage hold:
I were beſt not call; I dare not call: yet Famine
Ere cleane it o're-throw Nature, makes it valiant,
Plentie, and Peace breeds Cowards: Hardineſſe euers
Of Hardineſſe is Mother. Hoas? who's heree?
If any thing that's civil, ſpeake: if ſauage,

Take,

The Tragedy of Cymbeline.

Take, or lend. Hoa? No answer? Then Ile enter.

Beft draw my Sword ; and if mine Enemy

But feare the Sword like me, hee' scarily looke on't.

Such a Foe, good Heauens. Exit.

## Scena Septima.

Enter Belarius, Glerius, and Aruiragus.

Bel. You Polidore haue prou'd beft Woodman, and
Are Master of the Feast: Cadwall, and I

Will play the Cooke, and Seruant, 'tis our match:

The fewe of industry would dry, and dye

But for the end it workes too. Come, our flomackes

Will make what's homely, faunour : Wearineſſe

Can ſnore vpon the Flint, when reſtie Sloth

Findes the Downe-pillow hard. Now peace be heere;

Poore house, that keep it thy ſelfe.

Gue. I am throughly weary.

Arui. I am weake with royle, yet strong in appetite.

Gue. There is cold meat i'th'Caue, we'l brouz on that
Whilft what we haue kill'd, be Cook'd.

Bel. Stay, come not in :

But that it eares our viſtualles, I should thinke

Heere were a Faery.

Gue. What's the matter, Sir ?

Bel. By Jupiter an Angell : or if not

An earthly Paragon. Behold Diuinenſſe

No elder then a Boy.

Enter Imogen.

Imo. Good maſters harme me not :

Before I enier'd heere, I call'd, and thought

To haue begg'd, or bought, what I haue took: good troth
I haue folne nought, nor would not, though I had found
Gold ſtrew'd i'th'Floure. Heere's money for my Meate,
I would haue left it on the Boord, ſo ſoone

As I had made my Meale ; and parted

With Pray'rs for the Prouider.

Gue. Money ? Youth,

Aru. All Gold and Siluer rather turne to durt,

As'tis no better reckon'd, but of thofe

Who worſhip durty God's.

Imo. I fee you're angry :

Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should

Haue dyed, had I not made it.

Bel. Whether bound ?

Imo. To Milford-Hauen.

Bel. What's your name?

Imo. Fidele Sir : I haue a Kinfman, who

Is bound for Italy ; he embark'd at Milford,
To whom being going, almoſt ſpent with hunger,
I am falne in this offence.

Bel. Prythee (faire youth)

Thiue vs no Charles : nor meaſure our good mindeſ

By this rude place we lie in. Well encounter'd,

Tis almoſt right, you ſhall haue better cheere

Ere you depart; and thankes to ſlay, and eate it :

Boyes, bio him welcome.

Gue. Were you a woman, youth,

I should woo hard, but be your Groome in honesty:

I bid for you, as I do buy.

Arui. Ile make't my Comfort.

He is a man, Ile loue him as my Brother :

And such a welcome as I'd giue to him

(After long abſence) ſuch is yours. Moſt welcome :

Be ſprightly, for you ſell, m'ongſt Friends.

Imo. 'Mongſt Friends ?

If Brothers : would it had bin ſo, that they
Had bin my Fathers Sonnes, then had my prize

Bin leſſe, and ſo more equall ballaſting

To thee Poffhumus.

Bel. He wrings at ſome diſtrefſe.

Gue. Would I could free't.

Arui. Or I, what ere it be,

What paine it cost, what danger : Gods !

Bel. Hearke Boyes.

Imo. Great men

That had a Court no bigger then this Cauе,

That did attend them ſelues, and had the vertue

Which their owne Conſcience ſeal'd them: slaying by
That nothing-guift of differing Multitudes

Could not out-peere theſe twaine. Pardon me God's,
I'd change my ſexe to be Companion with them,
Since Leonatus false.

Bel. It ſhall be ſo :

Boyes weel go drefſe our Hunt. Faire youth come in;

Diſcourse is heavy, faſting : when we haue ſupp'd

Wee'l manerly demand thee of thy Story,

So farre as thou wilt ſpeake it,

Gue. Pray draw neere.

Arui. The Night to th'Owle,

And Morne to th' Larke leſſe welcome.

Imo. Thankes Sir.

Arui. I pray draw neere.

Exeunt.

## Scena Oſtua.

Enter two Roman Senators, and Tribunes.

1. Sen. This is the tenor of the Emperors Writ ;

That ſince the common men are now in Action

'Gainſt the Pannonians, and Dalmatians,

And that the Legions now in Gallia, are

Full weake to vndertake our Warres againſt

The falne-off Britaines, that we do incite

The Gentry to this buſineſſe. He creates

Lucius Pro-Conſuall : and to you the Tribunes

For this immediate Leuy, he commands

His abſolute Commiffion. Long liue Cæsar.

Tri. Is Lucius Generall of the Forces ?

2. Sen. 1.

Tri. Remaining now in Gallia?

1. Sen. With thofe Legions

Which I haue ſpoke of, whereunto your leuie

Muſt be ſuppliant : the words of your Commaiffion

Will tye you to the numbers, and the time

Of their dispatch.

Tri. We will diſcharge our duty.

Exeunt.

## Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Clotten alone.

Clot. I am neere to th' place where they ſhould meet,
if Pisanio haue mapp'd it truely. How fit his Garments
ferue me? Why ſhould his Miltris who was made by him
that

The Tragedie of Cymbeline.

387

that made the Taylor, not be fit too? The rather (fausing
reuerence of the Word) for't is faide a Womans fitneſſe
comes by fits: therein I muſt play the Workman, I dare
ſpeake it to my ſelſe, for it is not Vainglorie for a man,
and his Glaſſe, to confer in his owne Chamber; I meane,
the Lines of my body are as well drawne as his; no ſelſe
young, more ſtrong, not beneath him in Fortunes, be-
yond him in the aduantage of the time, abone him in
Birth, alike conuerant in generall ſeruices, and more re-
markable in ſingle oppofitions; yet this imperfeueraut
Thing loues him in my defpight. What Mortalitie is?
Poſſumurus, thy head (which now is growing vppon thy
 Shoulders) ſhall within this houre be off, thy Miftris in-
forced, thy Garments cut to peeces before thy face: and
all this done, ſpurne her home to her Father, who may
(happily) be a little angry for my ſo rough ſage: but my
Mother hauing power of his teſtineſſe, ſhall turne all in-
to my commendations. My Horſe is tyed vp ſafe, out
Sword, and to a fore purpose: Fortune put them into my
hand: This is the very deſcription of their meeting place
and the Fellow dares not deceive me.
Exit.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Belarinus, Guiderius, Aruriagus, and
Imogen from the Cane.

Bel. You are not well: Remaine here in the Cane,
Wee'll come to you after Hunting.

Arui. Brother, itay heree :

Are we not Brothers?

Imo. So man and man should be,

But Clay and Clay, differs in dignitie,

Whofe duſt is both alike. I am very ſicke,

Gui. Go you to Hunting, Ile abide with him.

Imo. So ſicke I am not, yet I am not well :

But not so Citizen a wanton, as

To feeme to dye, ere ſicke: So pleafe you, leaue me,

Sticke to your Journall course : the breach of Cuffome,

Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me

Cannot amend me. Society, is no comfort

To one not ſociable : I am not very ſicke,

Since I can reaon of it: pray you truſt me heree,

Ile rob none but my ſelſe, and let me dye

Stealing so poorly.

Gui. I loue thee: I haue ſpoke it,

How much the quantity, the waight as much,

As I do loue my Father.

Bel. What? How? how?

Arui. If it be finne to ſay so (Sir) I yoake mee

In my good Brothers fault: I know not why

I loue this youth, and I haue heard you ſay,

Loue's reaſon's, without reaſon. The Beere at doore,

And a demand who is't shall dye, I'ld ſay.

My Father, not this youth.

Bel. Oh noble ſtraine!

O worthineſſe of Nature, breed of Greatneſſe!

"Cowards farther Cowards, & Bafe things Syre Bace;

"Nature hath Meale, and Bran; Contempt, and Grace.

I me not their Father, yet who this should bee,

Deth myracle it ſelſe, lou'd before mee.

'Tis the ninth houre o'th' Horne.

Arui. Brother, farewell.

Imo. I wiſh ye ſport.

Arui. You health. ——So pleafe you Sir.

Imo. These are kinde Creatures.

Gods, what lyes I haue heard :

Our Courtiers ſay, all's ſauage, but at Court ;

Experience, oh thou diſproouſt Report.

Th' imperious Seas breeds Monſters; for the Difſh,

Poore Tributary Riuers, as sweet Difſh :

I am ſicke ſtill, heart-ſicke; Pifanio,

Ile now tafe of thy Drugge.

Gui. I could not ſtirre him :

He ſaid he was gentle, but vnfortunate ;

Difhonestly afflicted, but yet honest.

Arui. Thus did he auſwer me : yet ſaid hereaſter,
I might know more.

Bel. To'th'Field, to'th' Field :

Wee'll leaue you for this time, go in, and reſt.

Arui. Wee'll not be long away.

Bel. Pray be not ſicke,

For you muſt be our Hufwife.

Imo. Well, or ill,

I am bound to you.

Exit.

Bel. And that be euer,

This youth, how ere diſtrefſt, appears he hath had
Good Anceſtors:

Arui. How Angell-like he ſings?

Gui. But his neate Cookerie ?

Arui. He cut our Rootes in Charaſters,

And ſaw't our Brothes, as Iuno had bin ſicke,

And he her Dieter.

Arui. Nobly he yokes

A smiling, with a ſigh; as if the ſighe

Was that it was, for not being ſuch a Smile :

The Smile, mocking the Sigh, that it would flye

From ſo diuine a Temple, to commix

With windes, that Saylors raile at.

Gui. I do note,

That greeſe and patience rooted in them both,

Mingle their ſpurres together.

Arui. Grow patient,

And let the ſtinking- Elder (Greeſe) vntwine

His perſhing rootes, with the encreaſing Vine.

Bel. It is great morning. Come away: Who's there?

Enter Cloten.

Clo. I cannot finde the ſutho Runnagates, that Villaine
Hath mock'd me. I am faint.

Bel. Theſo Runnagates?

Meanes he not vs? I partly know him, 'tis

Cloten, the Sonne o'th' Queene. I feare some Ambuſh:

I ſaw him not theſe many yeares, and yet

I know 'tis he: We are held as Out-Lawes: Hence.

Gui. He is but one: you, and my Brother ſearch

What Companies are neere; pray you away,

Let me alone with him.

Clot. Soft, what are you

That flye me thus? Some villaine-Mountainers?

I haue heard of ſuch. What ſlaue art thou?

Gui. A thing!

More flauiſh did I ne're, then anſwering

A ſlaue without a knuckle.

Clot. Thou art a Robber,

A Law-breaker, a Villaine: yeeld thee Theeſe,

Gui. To who? to thee? What art thou? Haue not I

An arme as bigge as thine? A heart, as bigge :

Thy words I grant are bigger : for I weare not

My Dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art :

Why

The Tragedy of Cymbeline.

Why I should yeeld to thee?

Clot. Thou Villaine, base,

Knowst me not by my Cloathes?

Gui. No, nor thy Taylor, Rasfall :

Who is thy Grandfather ? He made those cloathes,
Which (as it seems) make thee.

Clo. Thou precious Varlet,
My Taylor made them not.

Gui. Hence then, and thank me

The man that gaue them thee. Thou art some Foole,
I am loath to beare thee.

Clot. Thou initious Theefe,
Heare but my name, and tremble.

Gui. What's thy name ?

Clo. Cloten, thou Villaine.

Gui. Cloten, thou double Villaine be thy name,
I cannot tremble at it, were it Toad, or Adder, Spider,
I would moue me sooner.

Clot. To thy further feare,
Nay, to thy meere Confusion, thou shaft know
I am Sonne to th'Queene.

Gui. I am sorry for't : not feeming

So worthy as thy Birth.

Clot. Act not afeard ?

Gui. Thofe that I reverence, thofe I feare: the Wife:
At Ffooles I laugh : not feare them.

Clot. Dye the death :

When I haue flaine thee with my proper hand,
He follow thofe that euen now fled hence :

And on the Gates of Luds-Towne fet your heads:
Yeeld Rufticke Mountaineer.

Fight and Excunt.

Enter Belarius and Arviragus.

Bel. No Companie's abroad ?

Arni. None in the world : you did miftake him sure.

Bel. I cannot tell : Long is it since I faw him,
But Time hath nothing blurd't thofe lines of Pauour
Which then he wore : the flatches in his voice,
And burft of speaking were as his : I am absolute

Twas very Cloten.

Arni. In this place we left them ;

I with my Brother make good time with him,
You fay he is ſo ſell.

Bel. Being ſcaife made vp,

I meane to man; he had not apprehension

Of roaring terrors : For defect of iudgement

Is oft the caufe of Feare.

Enter Guiderius.

But fee thy Brother.

Gui. This Cloten was a Foole, an empty purſe,

There was no money in't: Not Hercules

Could haue knock'd out his Braines, for he had none :
Yet I not doing this, the Foole had borne
My head, as I do his.

Bel. What haſt thou done ?

Gui. I am perfect what : cut off one Clotens head,
Sonne to the Queene (after his owne report)
Who call'd me Traitor, Mountaineer, and ſwore
With his owne single hand heell'd take vs in,
Difplace our heads, where (thanks the Gods) they grow
And fet them on Luds-Towne.

Bel. We are all vndone.

Gui. Why, worthy Father, what haue we to loofe,
But that he ſwore to take, our Liues ? the Law
Proſects ne't vs, then why should we be tender,
To let an arrogant piecee of flesh threat vs ?

Play Iudge, and Executioner, all himſelfe ?

For we do feare the Law. What company
Difcouer you abroad ?

Bel. No ſingle foule

Can we fet eye on : but in all ſafe reaſon
He muſt haue ſome Attendants. Though his Honor
Was nothing but mutation, I, and that
From one bad thing to worſe : Not Frenzie,
Not absolute madneſſe could ſo farre haue rau'd
To bring him heere alone : although perhaps

It may be heard at Court, that ſuch as wee
Caue heere, hunt heere, are Out-lawes, and in time
May make ſome ſtronger head, the which he hearings,
(As it is like him) might breaſe out, and ſwere
Heell'd fetch vs in, yet is't not probable
To come alone, either he ſo vndertaking,
Or they ſo suffering : then on good ground we feare,
If we do feare this Body hath a taile
More perillous then the head.

Arni. Let Ord'nance

Come as the Gods ſore ſay it; howſoere,
My Brother hath done well,

Bel. I had no minde

To hunt this day : The Boy Fidelas ſickeneſſe
Did make my way long forth.

Gui. With his owne Sword,
Which he did waue againſt my throat, I haue tane
His head from him: Ile throw't into the Creeke
Behinde our Rocke, and let it to the Sea,
And tell the Fifeſhs, hee's the Queenes Sonne, Cloten,
That's all I reake.

Exit.

Bel. I feare'twill be reueng'd :
Would (Polidore) thou had'ſt not done't: though valour
Becomes thee well enough.

Arni. Would I had done't :

So the Reuenge alone purſu'd me : Polidore

I loue thee brotherly, but enuy much

Thou haſt robb'd me of this deed: I would Reuenges

That poffible ſtrength might meet, wold ſee k vs through
And put vs to our anſwer.

Bel. Well, 'tis done :

Wee'l hunt no more to day, nor ſeeke for danger
Where there's no profit. Iprythee to our Rocke,
You and Fidele play the Cookes : Ile stay
Till haſt Polidore returne, and bring him

To dinner prefently.

Arni. Poore ſicke Fidele,

Ile willingly to him, to gaine his colour,
I'd lee a parifh of ſuch Clotens blood,
And praife my ſelſe for charity.

Exit.

Bel. Oh thou Goddeſſe,
Thou diuine Nature; thou thy ſelſe thou blazon't
In these two Princely Boyes : they are as gentle
As Zephyres blowing below the Violet,
Not wagging his ſweet head; and yet, as rough
(Their Royall blood enchaf'd) as the rud'ſt winde,
That by the top doth take the Mountaine Pine,
And make him ſtoope to th'Vale. 'Tis wonder
That an inuible inflin't should frame them
To Royalty vnlearn'd, Honor vnaught,
Ciuillty not ſene from other : valour
That wildly growes in them, but yeelds a crop
As if it had beene ſlow'd : yet (it's ſtrange
What Clotens being heere to vs portends,
Or what his death will bring vs.

Enter Guiderous.

Gui. Where's my Brother ?

The Tragedie of Cymbeline.

389

I haue sent Clotens Clot-po le downe the streame,
In Enbaffie to his Mother; his Bodie's hossage
For his returne.

Solenn Musick,

Bel. My ingenuous Infrument,

(Hearke Polidore) it founds : but what occasion
Hath Cadwal now to giue it motion ? Hearke.

Gui. Is he at home?

Bel. He went hence euen now.

Gui. What does he meane?

Since death of my deer'ft Mother

It did not speake before. All Solemne things

Should anwer Solemne Accidents. The matter?

Triumphes for nothing, and lamenting Toyes,
Isoliity for Apes, and greefe for Boyes.

Is Cadwall mad?

Enter Arviragus, with Imogen dead, bearing
her in his Armes.

Bel. Looke, heere he comes,

And brings the dire occasion in his Armes,
Of what we blame him for.

Arvi. The Bird is dead

That we haue made so much on. I had rather

Hae skipt from fixteene yeares of Ag., to fixty:

To haue turn'd my leaping time into a Crutch,
Then haue seene this.

Gui. Oh sweeteft, fayreft Lilly :

My Brother weares thee not the one halfe so well,

As when thou grew'ft thy selfe,

Bel. Oh Melancholly,

Who euer yet could found thy bottome? Finde

The Ooze, to shew what Coart thy fluggish care

Might'ft eafleft harbour in. Thou bleffed thing,

Ioue knowes what man thou might'ft haue made : but i,

The dyed'ft a moft rare Boy, of Melancholly.

How found you him?

Arui. Starke, as you fee :

Thus smiling, as fome Fly had tickled slumber,

Not as deaths dart. being laugh'd at: his right Cheeke
Repoſing on a Cuffusion.

Gui. Where?

Arui. O't'floore:

His armes thus leagu'd, I thought he flept, and put

My clowted Brogues from off my feete, whole rudeneſſe

Anwer'd my steps too lowd.

Gui. Why, he but sleepes :

If he be gone, hec' make his Graue, a Bed :

With female Fayries will his Tombe be haunted,

And Wormes will not come to thee.

Arui. With fayreſt Flowers.

Whil'ft Sommer laſts, and I lieue heere, Fidele,

Ile sweeten thy fad graue: thou ſhalt not lacke

The Flower that's like thy face. Pale-Primrose, nor

The azur'd Hare-bell, like thy Veines : no, nor

The leafe of Eglantine, whom nor to flander,

Out-fweetered not thy breath: the Raddocke would

With Charitable bill (Oh bill fore ſhaming

Thofe righ-left-heyres, that let their Fathers lye

Without a Monument) bring thee all this,

Yea, and furr'd Mofe besides. When Flowres are none

To winter-ground thy Coarſe—

Gui. Prythee haue done,

And do not play in Wench-like words with that

Which is ſo ſerious. Let vs bury him,

And not protraet with admiration, what

Is now due debt. To'ch'graue.

Arui. Say, where shall he lay him ?

Gui. By good Enriphile, our Mother.

Arui. Bee't to:

And let vs (Polidore) though now our voyces

Hae got the mannifcracke, ſing him to'ch'ground.

As once to our Mother : vie like note, and words,

Saue that Enriphile, muſt be Fidele.

Gui. Cadwall,

I cannot ſing : Ile weepe, and word it with thee.

For Notes of ſorrow, out of tune, are worſe

Then Prieſts, and Phanes that lye.

Arui. Wee'l ſpeake it then.

Bel. Great graeſes: I fee medicine the leſſe : For Clotem
Is quite forgot. He was a Queenes Sonne, Boyes,

And though he came our Enemmy, remember

He was paid for that: though meane, and mighty roting
Together haue one duſt, yet Reuenerence

(That Angell of the world) doth make diffiſtion

Of place 'tweene high, and low. Our Foe was Princely,

And though you tooke his life, as being our Foe,

Yet bury him, as a Prince.

Gui. Pray you fetch him hither,

Therſites body is as good as Aix,

When neyther are aliue.

Arui. If you'll go fetch him,

Wee'l ſay our Song: the whil'ſt: Brother begin,

Gui. Nay Cadwall, we muſt lay his head to the Earth,

My Father hath a reaſon for't.

Arui. 'Tis true.

Gui. Come on then, and remoue him,

Arui. So, begin.

SONG.

Guid. Feare no more the beate o'th'Sun,

Nor the ſurious Winters rages,

Thou thy worldl'dy task half don,

Home art gon, and tane thy wages.

Golden Lads, and Girles all muſt,

As Chimney-Sweepers come to duſt.

Arui. Feare no more the frowne o'th' Great,

Thou art paſt the Tirants frode,

Care no more to cloth and eate,

To thee the Reſde is as the Oake :

The Scepter, Learning, Phyſicke muſt,

All follow this and come to duſt.

Guid. Feare no more the Lightning flapſ.

Arui. Nor th'all dreaded Thunderflone.

Gui. Feare not Slander, Censure rath.

Arui. Thou haſt finis'd loy and mone.

Both. All Lovers young, all Lovers muſt,

(Conſigne to thee and come to duſt.)

Guid. No Exorciser harme thee,

Arui. Nor no witch-craft charme thee.

Guid. Gheſt vnlaid forbeare thee.

Arui. Nothing ill come neere thee.

Both. Quiet consumation hane,

And renowned be thy graue.

Enter Belarinus with the body of Clotem.

Gui. We haue done our obſequies :

Come lay him downe.

Bel. Heere's a ſew Flowres, but 'bout midnight more :

The hearbes that haue on them cold dew o'th'night

Are firewings fit for Graues: vpon their Faces,

You were as Flowres, now wither'd: euen ſo

Theſe Herbelets ſhall, which we vpon you fireſt.

Come on, away, apart vpon our knees :

The ground that gaue them firſt, ha's them againe :

Their pleafures here are paſt, to are their paine,

Exeunt.

Imogen

bbb

The Tragedie of Cymbeline.

Imogen awakes.

Yes Sir, to Milford-Hauen, which is the way?
I thank you, by yond bush? pray how farre thether ?
Ods pittikins: can it be fixe mile yet?
I haue gone all night: 'Faith, Ile yce downe, and sleepe.
Butoft; no Bedfellow? Oh Gods, and Goddeffes !
These Flowres are like the pleafures of the World;
This bloody man the care on't. I hope I dreame:
For so I thought I was a Caue-keeper,
And Cooke to honest Creatures. But 'tis not so:

'Twas but a bolt of nothing, fhot at nothing,
Which the Braine makes of Fumes. Our very eyes,
Are fometimes like our Judgements, blinde. Good faith
I tremble till with feare: but if there be
Yet left in Heauen, as small a drop of pittie
As a Wrens eye; fear'd Gods, a part of it.

The Dreame's heere full: euen when I wake it is
Without me, to within me: not imagin'd, felt.

A headleſſe man? The Garments of *Posthumus* ?
I know the shape of's Legge: this is his Hand:
His Foote Mercuriall : his martiall Thigh

The brawnes of *Hercules*: but his Iouall face—

Murther in heauen? How ? 'tis gone. *Pisanio*?

All Curſes madded *Hecuba* gaue the Greekes,
And mine to boot, be darted on thee; thou
Conſpir'd with that Irregulous diuell *Cloten*,
Hath heere cut off my Lord. To write, and read,
Be henceforth treacherous. *Damn'd* *Pisanio*,
Hath with his forged Letters (*damn'd* *Pisanio*)

From this moſt braueſt veſſell of the world

Strooke the maine top! Oh *Posthumus*, alas,
Where is thy head? where's that? Aye me! where's that ?
*Pisanio* might haue kill'd thee at the heart,

And left this head on. How ſhould this be, *Pisanio* ?
'Tis he, and *Cloten*: Malice, and Lucre in them

Hae laid this Woe heere. Oh 'tis pregnant, pregnant !
The Drugge he gaue me, which hee ſaid was precious

And Cordiall to me, haue I not found it
Murd'rous to th' Senſes ? That confirmes it home:

This is *Pisanio's* deede, and *Cloten*: Oh!

Gue colour to my pale cheeke with thy blood,

That we the horrider may ſeeme to thofe
Which chance to finde vs. Oh, my Lord! my Lord!

Enter Lucius, Captaines, and a Soothſayer.

*Cap.* To them, the Legions garrifon'd in Gallia
After your will, haue croft the Sea, attending
You heere at Milford-Hauen, with your Shippes:
They are heere in readinſſe.

*Luc.* But what from Rome?

*Cap.* The Senate hath flirr'd vp the Conſiners,
And Gentlemen of Italy, moſt willing Spirits,
That promife Noble ſeruice: and they come
Under the Conduſt of bold *Iachimo*,

*Sjenna's* Brother.

*Luc.* When expeſt you them?

*Cap.* With the next benefit o' th'winde.

*Luc.* This forwardneſſe

Makes our hopes faire. Command our preſent numbers

Be muſter'd: bid the Captaines looke too't. Now Sir,
What haue you dream'd of late of this warres purpose:

*Sooth.* Last night, the very Gods ſhew'd me a vifion
(I ſaft, and pray'd for their Intelligence) thus:

I ſaw Ioues Bird, the Roman Eagle wing'd
From the ſpungy South, to this part of the Weſt,
There vanilſh'd in the Sun-beames, which portends
(Vneſſe my finnes abuse my Diuination)

Succeſſe to the Roman hoaſt.

*Luc.* Dreame often ſo,

And neuer falſe. Soft hoa, what truncke is heere?
Without his top? The ruine ſpeakes, that sometime
It was a wort by building. How? a Page?

Or dead, or ſleeping on him? But dead rather:

For Nature doth abhorre to make his bed

With the defunſt, or sleepe vpon the dead.

Let's see the Boyes face.

*Cap.* Hee's alue my Lord.

*Luc.* Hee'll then inſtruct vs of this body: Young one,
Informe vs of thy Fortunes, for it ſeemes
They craue to be demanded: who is this
Thou mak'ſt thy bloody Pillow? Or who was he
That (otherwife then noble Nature did)

Hath alter'd that good Picture? What's thy intereſt
In this ſad wracke? How came't? Who is't?

What art thou?

*Imo.* I am nothing; or if not,

Nothing to be were better: This was my Maſter,

A very valiant Britaine, and a good,

That heere by Mountaineers lyes ſaine: Alas,

There is no more ſuch Maſters: I may wander

From Eaſt to Occident, cry out for ſeruice,

Try many, all good: ſerue truly: neuer

Finde ſuch another Maſter.

*Luc.* 'Lacke, good youth:

Thou mouſt no leſſe with thy complaining, then

Thy Maſter in bleeding: ſay his name, good Friend.

*Imo.* Richard du Champ: If I do lye, and do

No harme by it, though the Gods heare, I hope

They'l pardon it. Say you Sir?

*Luc.* Thy name?

*Imo.* Fidele Sir.

*Luc.* Thou doo'ſt approue thy ſelfe the very ſamo:
Thy Name well fits thy Faith; thy Faith, thy Name:

Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not ſay

Thou ſhalt be ſo well maſter'd, but be ſure

No leſſe beiou'd. The Romane Emperors Letters

Sent by a Conſull to me, ſhould not ſooner

Then thine owaue worth preferre thee: Go with me.

*Imo.* Ile follow Sir. But firſt, and'c pleafe the Gods,
Ile hide my Maſter from the Flies, as deepe

As theſe poore Pickaxes can digge: and when

With wild wood-leaues & weeds, I ha' ſtrew'd his graue
And on it ſaid a Century of prayers

(Such as I can) twice o're, Ile weepe, and ſighe,

And leauing ſo his ſeruice, follow you,

So pleafe you entertaine mee.

*Luc.* I good youth,

And rather Father thee, then Maſter thee: My Friends,

The Boy hath taught vs manly duties: Let vs

Finde out the prettieſt Dazied-Plot we can,

And make hira with our Pikes and Partizans

A Graue: Come, Arne him: Boy hee's preferr'd.

By thee, to vs, and he ſhall be interr'd

As Souldiers can. Be cheerefull; wipe thine eyes,

Some Falles are meanes the happier to arise.

Exennt

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Cymbeline, Lords, and Pisanio.

*Cym.* Againe: and bring me word how 'tis with her,
A Feauour with the abſence of her Sonne; A

The Tragedie of Cymbeline.

391

A madneſſe, of which her life's in danger: Heauens,
How deeply you at once do touch me. Imogen,
The great part of my comfort, gone: My Queene
Vpon a depera e bed, and in a time
When ſeaſefull Warres point at me: Her Sonne gone,
So needfull for this preſent ? It strikes me, paff
The hope of comfort. But for thee, Fellow,
Who needs muſt know of her de parture, and
Doſt ſeeme to ignorant, wee'l enforce it from thee
By a ſharpe Torture.

Pis. Sir, my life is yours,
I humbly fet it at your will: But for my Miftris,
I nothing know where ſhe remains : why gone,
Nor when the purpofes returne. Beſeech your Highnes,
Hold me your loyall Servant.

Lord. Good my Liege,
The day that ſhe was miſſing, he was here;
I dare be bound hee's true, and ſhall performe
All parts of his ſubſedion loyally. For Cloten,
There wants no diligence in ſeking him,
And will no doubt be found.

Cym. The time is troubleſome:
Wee'l ſlip you for a ſeafon, but our icalouſe
Do's yet depend.

Lord. So pleaue your Maiety,
The Romaine Legions, all from Gallia drawne,
Are landed on your Coast, with a ſupply
Of Romaine Gentlemen, by the Senate ſent.

Cym. Now for the Counſaile of my Son and Queen,
I am amaz'd with matter.

Lord. Good my Liege,
Your preparation can affront no leſſe
(ready: Then what you heare of. Come more, for more you're
The want is, but to put that ſowres in motion,
That long to moue.

Cym. I thanke you: let's withdraw
And meete the Time, as it ſeekes vs. We ſeare not
What can from Italy annoy vs, but
We greeue at chances herec. Away.

Pis. I heard no Letter from my Maſter, ſince
I wrote him Imogen was ſlaine. 'Tis ſtrange:
Nor heare I from my Miftris, who did promife
To yeeld me often tydings. Neicher know I
What is betide to Cloten, but remaine
Perplext in all. The Heauens ſkill muſt worke:
Wherein I am falſe, I am honſt: not true, to be true.
Theſe preſent warres ſhall finde Ilone my Country,
Euen to the note o'th'King, or Ile fall in them:
All other doubts, by time let them be cleer'd,
Fortune brings in ſome Boats, that are not ſteer'd. Exit.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, & Aruiragus.

Gai. The noyſe is round about vs.

Bel. Let vs from it.

Arui. What pleafure Sir, we finde in life, to locke it
From Action, and Aduenture.

Gai. Nay, what hope

Hae we in hiding vs? This way the Romaines
Muſt, or for Britaines ſlay vs, or receiue vs
For barbarous and vnnaſturaſl Reuolts
During their vſe, and ſlay vs after.

Bel. Sonnes,

Wee' higher to the Mountaines, there ſecure v..
To the Kings party there's no going: neſneſſe
Of Clotens death (we being not knowne, not muſter'd
Among the Bands) may diue vs to a render
Where we haue liu'd; and ſo extort from's that
Which we haue done, whose anſwer would be death
Drawne on with Torture.

Gai. This is (Sir) a doubt
In ſuch a time, nothing becoming you,
Nor satisfying vs.

Arui. It is not likely,
That when they heare their Roman horſes neigh,
Behold their quarter'd Fires; haue both their eyes
Aud eares ſo cloyd importantly as now,
That they will waffle their time vpon our note,
To know from whence we are.

Bel. Oh, I am knowne
Of many in the Army: Many yeeres
(Though Cloten then but young) you ſee, not wore him
From my remembrance. And beſides, the King
Hath not deferu'd my ſeruice, nor your Loues,
Who ſinde in my Exile, the want of Breeding;
The certainty of this heard life, aye hopeleſſe
To haue the courteſe your Cradle promis'd,
But to be full hot Summers Tanlings, and
The shrinking Slaves of Winter.

Gai. Then be ſo,
Better to ceafe to be. Pray Sir, to'th'Army:
I, and my Brother are not knowne; your ſelfe
So out of thought, and thereto ſo ore-growne,
Cannot be queſtionald.

Arui. By this Sunne that ſhines
He thither: What thing is't, that I neuer
Did ſee man dye, ſeafe ever look'd on blood,
But that of Coward Hares, hot Goats, and Venifon?
Neuer befvid a Horſe ſaue one, that had
A Rider like my ſelfe, who ne're wore Rowell,
Nor Iron on his heele? I am aftam'd
To looke vpon the holy Sunne, to haue
The benefit of his bleſt Beames, remaining
So long a poore vnknowne.

Gai. By heauens Ile go,
If you will bleſſe me Sir, and giue me leaue,
Ile take the better care: but if you will not,
The hazard therefore due fall on me, by
The hands of Romaines.

Arui. So ſay I, Amen.

Bel. No reaſon I (ſince of your liues you ſet)
So flight a valewation) ſhould reſerue
My crack'd one to more care. Haue with you Boyes:
If in your Country warres you chance to dye,
That is my Bed too (Lads) and there I'll ye.
Lead, lead; the time seems long, their blood thinks ſcorn
Till it flye out, and ſhow them Princes borne. Exeunt.

## Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Poffinnus alone.

Poff. Yea bloody cloth. I lie keep thee: for I am wigh
Thou should't be colour'd thus. You married ones,
If each of you should take this courſe, how many
Muſt murther Wives much better then themselves.

bbb 2

For

The Tragedy of Cymbeline.

For wrying but a little? Oh P[ianio, Euery good Servant do's not all Commands: No Bond, but to do ist ones. Gods, if you Should haue tane vengeance on my faults, I neuer Had liu'd to put on this: so had you faued The noble Imogen, to repent, and ftrooke Me (wretch) more worth your Vengeance. But alacke, You fndch fome hence for little faults; that's loue To haue them fall no more: you fome permit To fecond illes with illes, each elder worfe, And make them dread it, to the dooers thrift. But Imogen is your owne, do your beſt willes, And make me bieſt to obey. I am brought hither Among th'Italian Gentry, and to fight Againft my Ladies Kingdome: 'Tis enough That (Britaine) I haue kill'd thy Mifaris: Peace, Ile giue no wound to thee: therefore good Heauens, Heare patiently my purpouse. Ile diſrobe me Of theſe Italian weedes, and ſuie my ſelfe As do's a Britaine Pezant: so Ile fight Againſt the part I come with: so Ile dye For thee (O Imogen) euen for whom my life Is euery breath, a death: and thus, vuknowne, Pictied, nor hated, to the face of perill- My ſelfe Ile dedicate. Let me make men know More valour in me, then my habits flow. Gods, put the ſtrength o' th'Leonati in me: To ſhame the guize o'th'world, I will begin, The ſaſhion ſeſſe without, and more within.

Exit.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter Lucius, Iachimo, and the Romane Army at one doore: and the Britaine Army at another : Leonatus Poſthumus following like a poore Souldier. They march ouer, and goe out. Then enter againe in Skirmſh Iachimo and Poſthumus : he vanquifeth and disarmeth Iachimo, and then leaues him.

Iac. The heavineſſe and guilt within my boſome, Takes off my manhood: I haue belyed a Lady, The Princesſe of this Country; and the ayre on't Reuengiuſly enfeebles me, or could this Carle, A very drudge of Natures, haue ſubdu'd me In my profession ? Knighthoods, and Honors borne As I were mine) are titles but of ſcorne. If that thy Gentry (Britaine) go before This Lowt, as he exceeds our Lords, the oddes Is, that we ſcarſe are men, and you are Goddes.

Exit.

The Battaille continues, the Britaines fly, Cymbeline is taken: Then enter to his ſeſcue, Bellarius, Guiderius, and Arrivagus.

Bel. Stand, ſtand, we haue th'aduantage of the ground, The Lane is guarded: Nothing rowts vs, but The villany of our feares.

Gui. Arut. Stand, ſtand, and fight.

Enter Poſthumus, and ſecond the Britaines. They ſeſcue Cymbeline, and Exeunt.

Then enter Lucius, Iachimo, and Imogen.

Luc. Away boy from the Troopes, and ſaue thy ſelfe: For friends kil friends, and the disorder's ſuch

As warre were hood-wink'd.

Iac. 'Tis their fresh ſupplies.

Lmc. It is a day turn'd ſtrangely: or betimes Let's re-inforce, or fly.

Exeunt

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Poſthumus, and a Britaine Lord.

Lor. Cam'ſt thou from where they made the ſtand?

Poſt. I did,

Though you it ſeemes come from the Fliers?

Lo, I did.

Poſt. No blame be to you Sir, for all was loft, But that the Heauens fought: the King himſelfe Of his wings deſtitute, the Army broken, And but the backes of Britaines ſeene; all flying Through a ſtrait Lane, the Enemy full-hearted, Lolling the Tongue with ſlaught'ring: hauing worke More plentifull, then Tooles to doo't: Aftooke downe Some mortally, some flightly touch'd, some falling Meereley through ſeare, that the ſtrait paffe was damm'd With deadmen, hurt behinde, and Cowards liuing To dye with length'd ſhame.

Lo. Where was this Lane?

Poſt. Close by the battrell, diſch'd, & wall'd with turph, Which gaue aduantage to an ancient Soldiour (An honest one I warrant) who deferu'd So long a breeding, as his white beard came to, In doing this for't Country. Athwart the Lane, He, with two ſtriplings (Lads more like to run The Country bafe), then to commit ſuch ſlaughter, With faces fit for Maskes, or rather ſayrer Then thole for preferuation cas'd, or ſhame) Made good the paffage, cryed to thofe that fled. Our Britaines hearts dye flying, not our men, To darkneſſe ſleete foules that flye backwards; ſtand, Or we are Romanes, and will giue you that Like beaſts, which you ſhun beaſtly, and may ſaue But to looke backe in frowne: Stand, ſtand. Theſe three, Three thouſand confident, in aſte as many: For three performers are the File, when all The reſt do nothing. With this word ſtand, ſtand, Accomodated by the Place, more Charming With their owne Noblenſe, which could haue turn'd A Diftaffe, to a Lance, gilded pale lookses; Part ſhame, part ſpirit renew'd, that ſome turn'd coward But by example (Oh a ſinne in Warre, Dam'n'd in the firſt beginners) gan to looke The way that they did, and to grin like Lyons Vpon the Pikes o'th'Hunters. Then beganne A ſtop i'th'Chaſer; a Retyre: Anon A Rowt, conſuſion thickes: forthwith they flye Chickens, the way which they ſtopt Eagles: Slaves The ſtrides the Viftors made: and now our Cowards Like Fragments in hard Voyages became

The life o'th'need: hauing found the backe doore open Of the vnguarded hearts: heauens, how they wound, Some flaine before ſome dying; ſome their Friends Ore-borne i'th'former waue, ten chac'd by one, Are now each one the ſlaughter-man of twenty: Thofe that would dye, or ere reſift, are growne The mortall bugs o'th'Field.

Lor.

The Tragedie of Cymbeline.

Lord. This was a strange chance:
A narrow Lane, an old man, and two Boyes.
Poſt. Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made
Rather to wonder at the things you heare,
Then to worke any. Will you Rime vpon't,
And vent it for a Mock'rie? Heere is one:
"Two Boyes, an Oldman (twice a Boy) a Lane,
"Prefer'd the Britaines, was the Romanes bane.
Lord. Nay, be not angry Sir.
Poſt. Lacke, to what end?
Who dares not fland his Foe, Ile be his Friend:
For if hee'd, as he is made to doo,
I know hee' quickly flye my friend ship too.
You have put me into Rime.
Lord. Farewell, you're angry.
Exit.
Poſt. Still going? This is a Lord: Oh Noble mifery
To be i'th'Field, and aske what newes of me:
To day, how many would haue guien their Honours
To haue fau'd their Carkaffes? Tooke heele to doo't,
And yet dyed too. I, in mine owne woe charm'd
Could not finde death, where I did heare him groane,
Nor feele him where he brooke. Being an ugly Monster,
'Tis ſtrange he hides him in fresh Cups, loſt Beds,
Sweet words; or hath moe minifers then we
That draw his knives i'th'War. Well I will finde him:
For being now a Fauourer to the Britaine,
No more a Britaine, I haue refum'd againe
The part I came in. Fight I will no more,
But yeeld me to the verieſt Hinde, that ſhall
Once touch my shoulder. Great the ſlaughter is
Heere made by'th'Romane; great the Anſwer be
Britaines muſt take. For me, my Ranſome's death,
On eyther ſide I come to ſpend my breath;
Which neyther heere I keepe, nor beare agen,
But end it by ſome meanes for Imogen.
Enter two Captaines, and Soldiers.

1 Great Iupiter be priaſ'd, Lucius is taken;
'Tis thought the old man, and his ſonnes, were Angels.
2 There was a fourth man, in a filly habit,
That gaue th'Affront with them.
1 So 'tis reported:
But none of 'em can be found. Stand, who's there?
Poſt. A Roman,
Who had not now beene drooping heere, if Seconds
Had anſwer'd him.
2 Lay hands on him: a Dogge,
A legge of Rome ſhall not returne to tell
What Crows haue peckt them here: he brags his ſeruice
As if he were of note: bring him to'th'King.
Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Gwiderius, Arriagus Pisanio, and
Romane Captaines. The Captaines prefent Poſtbumus to
Cymbeline, who deliuers him ouer to a Gaoler.

## Scena Quarta.

Enter Poſtbumus, and Gaoler.
Gao. You shall not now be ſolne;
You haue lockes vpon you:
So graze, as you finde Pauſure.
2. Gao. I, or a ſtomacke.
Poſt. Moſt welcome bondage; for thou art a way
(I thinke) to liberty: yet am I better
Then one that's ſicke o'th'Gowt, ſince he had rather

Groane so in perpetuity, then be cur'd
By'th'fure Phyſician, Death; who is the key
'T'enbarre these Lockes. My Conſcience, thou art fetter'd
More then my thanks, & wriſts: you good Gods giue me
The penitent Inſtrument to picke that Bolt,
Then free for euer. Is't enough I am forry ?
So Children temporall Fathers do appeale;
Gods are more full of mercie. Muſt I reſπent,
I cannot do it better then in Gyues,
Defi'd, more then conſtrain'd, to ſatisſe
Iof my Freedome 'tis the maine part, take
No other render of me, then my All.
I know you are more element then vilde men,
Who of their broken Debtors take a third,
A fixt, a tenth, letting them thriue againe
On their abatement; that's not my deſire.
For Imogen deere life, take mine, and though
'Tis not to deere, yet 'tis a life; you coyn'd it,
'Tweene man, and man, they waigh not euery flampe:
Though light, take Peces for the figures ſake,
(You rather) mine being yours: and so great Powres,
If you will take this Audit, take this life,
And cancell these cold Bonds. Oh Imogen,
Ile peake to thee in ſilence.

Solomne Muſicke. Enter (as in an Apparation) Sicillius Leonatus, Father to Poſtbumus, an old man, at ſe, red like a warriour, leading in his hand an ancient Matron (his wife, & Mother to Poſtbumus) with Muſickes before them. Then after other Muſicke follows the two young Leonati (Brothers to Poſtbumus) with wounds as they died in the warres. They circle Poſtbumus round as he lies ſleeping.

Sicil. No more thou Thunder-Maſter
flaw thy ſpight, on Mortall Flies:
With Mars fall out with Iuno chide that thy
Rates, and Reuenges.

Hath my poore Boy done ought but well,
whome face I neuer ſaw:
I dy'd whilft in the Wombe he ſtaide,
attending Natures Law.

Whofe Father then (as men report,
thou Orphanes Father art)

Thou shouldst haue bin, and ſhielded him,
from this earth-vexing ſmart.
Moth. Lucina lent not me her ayde,
but rooke me in my Throwes,

That from me was Poſtbumus ript,
came crying 'mong't his Foes.

A thing of pitty.

Sicil. Great Nature like his Anceſtrie,
moulded the ſtuffe ſo faire:
That he did ſeru'd the prais'd o'th'World,
as great Sicilius heyre.

1. Bro. When once he was mature for man,
in Britaine where was hee
That could ſtand vp his paralell ?
Or fruitfull obiect bee?

In eye of Imogen, that beſt could deeme
his dignitie.

Mo. With Marriage wherefore was he mockt
to be exil'd, and throwne

From Leonati Seate, and caſt from her,
his deereſt one.

Sweete Imogen?

Sic. Why did you ſuffer Iachimo, flighting thing of Italy,

bbb 3

To

The Tragedy of Cymbeline.

394

To taint his Nobler hart & braine, with needleſe elouely,
And to become the geeke and ſcorne o'th'others vilany?

2. **Bro.** For this, from ſtiller Seats we came,
    our Parents, and vs twaine,

That striking in our Countries cauſe,
fell brauely, and were ſlaine,

Our Fealty, & Tenanſus right, with Honor to maintaine.

1. **Bro.** Like hardiment Poſhummus hath to Cymbeline perform'd:

Then Iupiter, King of Gods, why haſt thou adiourn'd

The Graces for his Merits due, being all to dolors turn'd?

Sicil. Thy Chriſtall window ope; looke,
looke out, no longer exercife

Vpon a valiant Race, thy harſh, and potent iniuries :

Meth. Since (Iupiter) our Son is good,
take off his miſeries.

Sicil. Peepe through thy Marble Manſion, helpe,
or we poore Ghoſts will cry

To'th'ining Synod of the reſt, against thy Deity.

Brothers. Helpe (Iupiter) or we appeale,
and from thy iſtence flye.

Iupiter deſends in Thunder and Lightning, ſiting vpon an
Eagle. hee throwes a Thunder-bolt. The Ghoſtes fall on
their knees.

Iupiter. No more you petty Spirits of Region low
Offend our hearing: huff. How dare you Ghoſtes
Accufe the Thunderer, whose Bolt (you know)

Sky-planted, batters all rebelling Coaſts.

Poore ſhadowes of Elizium, hence, and reſt

Vpon your neuer-withering bankes of Flowres,

Be not with mortall accidents oppreſt,

No care of yours it is, you know 'tis ours.

Whom beſt I loue, I croſſe; to make my guift
The more delay'd, delighted. Be content,
Your low-laide Sonne, our Godde will vplift:

His Comforts thriue, his Trials well are ſpent :

Our ſoſiull Starre reign'd at his Birth, and in

Our Temple was he married : Rife, and ſade,

He ſhall be Lord of Lady Imogen,

And happier much by his Affiſtion made.

This Tablet lay vpon his Breſt, wherein

Our pleafure, his full Fortune, doth confine,

And ſo away: no farther with your dinne

Expreſſe Impatience, leaſt you stirre vp mine :

Mount Eagle, to my Palace Chriſtalline. Ascends

Sicil. He came in Thunder, his Celestiall breath

Was ſulphurous to ſmell: the holy Eagle

Stoop'd, as to foote vs: his Ascenſion is

More ſweet then our bleſt Fields: his Royall Bird

Prunes the immortall wing, and cloyes his Beake,

As when his God is pleas'd.

All. Thankes Iupiter.

Sic. The Marble Pavement clozes, he is enter'd

His radiant Roofe: Awaſ, and to be bleſt

Let vs with care performe his great beheſt. Vanifſo

Poſt. Sleepe, thou haſt bin a Grandſire, and begot

A Father to me: and thou heſt created

A Mother, and two Brothers. But (oh ſcorne)

Gone, they went hence ſo ſone as they were borne :

And ſo I am awake. Poore Wretches, that depend

On Greatneſſe, Fauour; Dreame as I haue done,

Wake, and finde nothing. But (alas) I ſwuer:

Many Dreame not to finde, neither deferue,

And yet are ſcrep'd in Fauours; ſo am I

That haue this Golden chance, and know not why:

What Fayeries haunt this ground? A Book? Oh rare one,

Be not, as is our fangled world, a Garment
Nobler then that it coners. Let thy effects
So follow, to be moſt unlike our Courtiers,
As good, as promise.

Readers.

When as a Lyons whelpe, ſhall to himſelfe unknowns, with-
out seeking finde, and bee embrac'd by a peece of tender
Ayre: And when from a flately Cedar (hall be topt branches,
which being dead many years, ſhall after resume, bee ioyed to
the old Stocke, and freshly grow, then ſhall Poſhummus end his
miſeries, Britaine be fortunate, and flourish in Peace and Plen-
tic.

'Tis still a Dreame: or eſſe ſuch fluffe as Madmen
Tongue, and braine not: either both, or nothing,
Or ſenſeleſſe ſpeaking, or a ſpeaking ſuch
As ſenſe cannot vntye. Be what it is,
The Action of my life is like it, which Ile keepe
If but for ſimpathy.

Enter Gaoler.

Gao. Come Sir, are you ready for death?

Poſt. Ouer-roaſted rather: ready long ago.

Gao. Hanging is the word, Sir, if you bee readie for
that, you are well Cook'd.

Poſt. So if I proue a good repaſt to the Spectators, the
diſh payes the ſhot.

Gao. A heavy reckoning for you Sir: But the comfort
is you ſhall be called to no more payments, fear no more
Tauerne Bils, which are often the ſadneſſe of parting, as
the procuring of mirth: you come in faint for want of
meate, depart reeling with too much drinke: ſorrie that
you haue payed too much, and ſorry that you are payed
too much: Purſe and Braine, both empty: the Brain the
heauier, for being too light: the Purſe too light, being
drawne of heauineſſe. Oh, of this contradiction you ſhall
now be quit: Oh the charity of a penny Cord, it ſummes
vpon thousands in a trice: you haue no true Debitor, and
Creditor but it: of what's paſt, is, and to come, the diſ-
charge: your necke (Sis) is Pen, Booke, and Counters; ſo
the Acquittance followes.

Poſt. I am merrier to dye, then thou art to lye.

Gao. Indeed Sir, he that sleepeſ, feeles not the Tooth-
Ache: but a man that were to sleepe your sleepe, and a
Hangman to helpe him to bed, I think he would change
places with his Officer: for, look you Sir, you know not
which way you ſhall go.

Poſt. Yes indeed do I, fellow.

Gao. Your death has eyes in's head then: I haue not
ſeene him ſo pietur'd: you muſt either bee directed by
fome that take vpon them to know, or to take vpon your
ſelſe that which I am ſure you do not know: or iump the
after-enquiry on your owne perill: and how you, ſhall
ſpeed in your iournies end, I thinke you'll neuer returne
to tell one.

Poſt. I tell thee, Fellow, there are none want eyes, to
direct them the way I am going, but ſuch as winke, and
will not vſe them.

Gao. What an infinite mocke is this, that a man ſhold
haue the beſt vſe of eyes, to fee the way of blindneſſe: I
am ſure hanging the way of winking.

Enter a Meſſenger.

Mef. Knocke off his Manacles, bring your Prisoner to
the King.

Poſt. Thou bring't good newes, I am call'd to bee
made free.

Gao. He be hang'd then.

Poſt. Thou ſhalt be then freer then a Gaoler; no bolts
for

["The Tragedy of Cymbeline.", "396", "Yea, though thou do demand a Prisoner.", "The Nobleft tane.", "Imo. I humbly thank you Highneſſe.", "Lnc. I do not bid thee begge my life, good Lad,\nAnd yet I know thou wilſ.", "Imo. No, no, alacke,", "There's other worke in hand : I see a thing", "Bitter to me, as death : your life, good Maſter,\nMuft chuffe for it ſelfe.", "Lnc. The Boy diſdaines me,", "He leaues me, ſcornes me : briefly dye their ioyes,\nThat place them on the truth of Gyrles, and Boyes ;\nWhy stands he ſo perplext?", "Cym. What would it thou Boy ?", "I loue thee more, and more : thinke more and more", "What's beſt to aske. Know it him thou look it on? ſpeak\nWilt haue him liue? Is he thy Kin? thy Friend?", "Imo. He is a Romane, no more kin to me,", "Then I to your Highneſſe, who being born your vassaile\nAm ſomething neerer.", "Cym. Wherefore ey'it him ſo ?", "Imo. Ile tell you (Sir) in priuate, if you pleafe", "To giue me hearing.", "Cym. I, with all my heart,", "And lend my beſt attention. What's thy name?", "Imo. Fidele Sir.", "Cym. Thou'rt my good youth : my Page", "Ile be thy Maſter : walke with me : ſpeake freely.", "Bel. Is not this Boy reuin'd from death ?", "Arvi. One Sand another", "Not more reſembles that ſweet Rofie Lad :", "Who dyed, and was Fidele : what thinke you ?", "Gui. The fame dead thing aliuie.", "Bel. Peace, peace, fee further : he eyes vs not, forbeare\nCreatures may be alike : were't he, I am ſure\nHe would haue ſpoke to vs.", "Gui. But we fee him dead.", "Bel. Be ſilent : let's fee further.", "Pisa. It is my Miſtris :", "Since he is ſiuing, let the time run on,\nTo good, or bad.", "Cym. Come, stand thou by our ſide,", "Make thy demand alowd. Sir, step you forth,", "Gieue anſwer to this Boy, and do it freely,", "Or by our Greatneſſe, and the grace of it\n(Which is our Honor) bitter torture ſhall", "Winnow the truth from falſhood. One ſpeake to him.", "Imo. My boone is, that this Gentleman may render\nOf whom he had this Ring,", "Poſt. What's that to him ?", "Cym. That Diamond vpon your Finger, ſay", "How came it yours?", "Iach. Thou'rt torture me to leaue vnſpoken, that", "Which to be ſpoke, wou'd torture thee.", "Cym. How? me?", "Iach. I am glad to be conſtrain'd to vter that", "Which torments me to conceale. By Villany", "I got this Ring : 'twas Leonatus Iewell,", "Whom thou did it banish : and which more may greeue", "As it doth me : a Nobler Sir, he're liu'd (thee)\n'Twixt sky and ground, Wilt thou heare more my Lord?", "Cym. All that belongs to this.", "Iach. That Paragon, thy daughter,", "For whom my heart drops blood, and my falſe ſpirits", "Quile to remember. Gie me leaue, I faint.", "Cym. My Daughter? what of him? Renew thy ſtrength", "I had rather thou shouldst it liue, while Nature will,\nThen dye ere I heare more : ftriue man, and ſpeake.", "Iach. Vpon a time, vnhappy was the clocke", "That frooke the houre : it was in Rome, accuſt\nThe Maſſion where : 'twas at a Feaſt, oh would", "Our Viands had bin poyſon'd (or at least", "Thofe which I heau'd to head:) the good Poſtbumus,\n(What should I ſay? he was too good to be", "Where ill men were, and was the beſt of all", "Among it the rar it of good ones) fitting ſadly,", "Hearing vs prauife our Loues of Italy", "For Beauty, that made barren the ſwell'd boaſt", "Of him that beſt could ſpeake : for Feature, laming", "The Shrine of Oenus, or ſtraight-pight Minerua,", "Poſures, beyond breeſe Nature. For Condition,", "A ſhop of all the qualities, that man", "Loues woman for, beſides that hooke of Wiuing,", "Faireneſſe, which strikes the eye.", "Cym. I stand on fire. Come to the matter.", "Iach. All too ſoon I ſhall,", "Vnleſſe thou wouldst ſt greeue quickly. This Poſtbumus,", "Moſt like a Noble Lord, in loue, and one", "That had a Royall Louer, tooke his hint,", "And (not diſprauſing whom we prais'd, therein", "He was as calme as vertue) he began", "His Miſtris picture, which, by his tongue, being made,", "And a minde put in't, either our bragges", "Were crak'd of Kitchin-Trulles, or his deſcription", "Prou'd vs vnſpeaking ſottes.", "Cym. Nay, nay, to't purpose,", "Iach. Your daughters Chaſtity, (there it beginnes)", "He ſpake of her, as Dian had hot dreames,", "And ſhe alone, were cold: Whereat, I wretch", "Made ſeruple of his prauife, and wager'd with him", "Peece of Gold, 'gainſt this, which then he wore", "Vpon his honour'd finger) to atraine", "In ſuite the place of ſb's bed, and winne this Ring", "By hers, and mine Adultery : he (true Knight)", "No leſſer of her Honour confident", "Then I did truly finde her, ſtakes this Ring,", "And would ſo, had it beene a Carbuncle", "Of Phœbus Wheele; and might ſo safely, had it", "Bin all the worth of ſb's Carre. Away to Britaine", "Poſte I in this deſigne : Well may you (Sir)", "Remember me at Court, where I was taught", "Of your chaſte Daughter, the wide difference", "'Twixt Amorous, and Villanous. Being thus quench'd", "Of hope, not longing; mine Italian braine,", "Gan in your duller Britaine operare", "Moſt vildely : for my vantage excellent,", "And to be brieſe, my prauſe ſo preuayl'd", "That I return'd with ſimular proofe enough,", "To make the Noble Leonatus mad,", "By wounding his belceſe in her Renowne,", "With Tokens thus, and thus auerring notes", "Of Chamber-hanging, Pictures, this her Bracelet", "(Oh cunning how I got) nay some markes", "Of ſecret on her perſon, that he could not", "But thinke her bond of Chaſtity quite crack'd,", "I hauing 'tane the forſeyt. Whereupon,", "Me thinkes I fee him now.", "Poſt. I so thou do't,", "Italian Fiend. Aye me, moſt credulous Foole,", "Egregious murtherer, Theeſe, any thing", "That's due to all the Villaines paſt, in being", "To come. Oh giue me Cord, or knife, or poyſ

The Tragedie of Cymbeline.

Some vpright Iusticcer. Thou King, send out
For Torturors ingenious : it is I

That all th'abhorred things o'ch'earth amend
By being worse then they. I am *Posthumus*,

That kill'd thy Daughter: Villain-like, I lye,
That caused a leffer villaine then my selfe,

A facerileous Theefe to doo't. The Temple
Of Vertue was the; yea, and she her selfe.
Spit, and throw stones, caft myre upon me, fet
The dogges o' th'treet to bay me: every villaine
Be call'd *Posthumus* Leonatus, and

Be villany leffe then 'twas. Oh Imogen!

My Queene, my life, my wife: oh Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen.

Imo. Peace my Lord, heare, heare.

Poff. Shall's have a play of this?

Thou cornfull Page, there lye thy part,
Pi f. Oh Gentlemen, helpe,

Mine and your Miftris: Oh my Lord *Posthumus*,

You ne're kill'd Imogen till now: helpe, helpe,
Mine honour'd Lady.

Cym. Does the world go round?

Poffh. How comes thee flaggers on mee?

Pfa. Wake my Miftris.

Cym. If this be so, the Gods do meane to strike me

To death, with mortall toy.

Pisa. How fares my Miftris?

Imo. Oh get thee from my light,

Thou gaueft me poyſon: dangerous Fellow hence,
Breath not where Princes are.

Cym. The tune of Imogen.

Pife. Lady, the Gods throw ſtones of fulpher on me, if
That box I gaue you, was not thought by mee

A precious thing, I had it from the Queene.

Cym. New matter fill.

Imo. It poyſon'd me.

Corn. Oh Gods!

I left out one thing which the Queene confett,

Which muſt approue thee honett. If Pafanio
Haue (faid ſhe) giuen his Miftris that Confection

Which I gaue him for Cordiall, ſhe is ſeru'd,
As I would ferue a Rat.

Cym. What's this, Cornelius?

Corn. The Queene (Sir) very oft importun'd me
To temper poyſons for her, till pretending

The satisfacion of her knowledge, onely

In killing Creatures vilde, as Cats and Dogges
Of no eſſeeme. I dreading, that her purpofe
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certaine ſtuffe, which being tane, would caſe

The prefent powre of life, but in ſhort time,
All Offices of Nature, should againe

Do their due Functions. Haue you tane of it?

Imo. Moſt like I did, for I was dead.

Bel. My Boyes, there was our error.

Gui. This is ſure Fidele.

Imo. Why did you throw your wedded Lady fro you?
Thinke that you are vpon a Rocke, and now
Throw me againe.

Poff. Hang there like fruite, my ſoule,
Till the Tree dye.

Cym. How now, my Fleſh? my Childe?
What, mak't thou me a dullard in this Aſt?

Wilt thou not ſpeak to me?

Imo. Your bleſſing, Sir.

Bel. Though you did lone this youth, I blame ye not,

You had a motiue for't.

Cym. My teares that fall

Proue holy-water on thee; Imogen,
Thy Mothers dead.

Imo. I am forry for't, my Lord.

Cym. Oh, ſhe was naught; and long of her it was
That we meet heere ſo strangely: but her Sonne
Is gone, we know not how, nor where.

Pisa. My Lord,

Now ſcare is from me, Ile ſpeake troth. Lord Cloten

Vpon my Ladies miſing, came to me

With his Sword drawne, foam'd at the mouth, and ſwore
If I discouer'd not which way the was gone,

It was my inſant death. By accident,

I had a feigned Letter of my Maſters

Then in my pocket, which directed him

To feeke her on the Mountaines neere to Milford,

Where in a frenzie, in my Maſters Garments

(Which he inſor'd from me) away he poffes

With vnchafle purpofe, and with oath to violate

My Ladies honor, what became of him,

I further know not.

Gui. Let me end the Story: I flew him there.

Cym. Matry, the Gods forefend.

I would not thy good deeds, should from my lips

Plucke a hard ſentence: Prythe valiant youth

Deny't againe.

Gui. I haue ſpoke it, and I did it.

Cym. He was a Prince.

Gui. A moſt incuill one. The wrongs he did mee

Were nothing Prince-like; for he did prouoke me

With Language that would make me ſpurne the Sea,

If it could be roare to me. I cut off's head,

And am right glad he is not standing heers

To tell this tale of mine.

Cym. I am forrow for thee:

By thine owne tongue thou art condemn'd, and muſt

Endure our Law: Thou'rt dead.

Imo. That headleſſe man I thought had bin my Lord

Cym. Binde the Offender,

And take him from our prefence,

Bel. Stay, Sir King.

This man is better then the man he flew,

As well defcended as thy ſelfe, and hath

More of thee merited, then a Band of Clotens

Had euer ſcarre for'. Let his Armes alone,

They were not borne for bondage.

Cym. Why old Soldier: 

Wilt thou vn笋 the worth thou art vnpay'd for

By taſting of our wrath? How of deſcent

As good as we?

Arui. In that he ſpake too farre.

Cym. And thou ſhalt dye for't.

Bel. We will dye all three,

But I will proue that two one's are as good

As I haue giuen out him. My Sonnes, I muſt

For mine owne part, vnfold a dangerous ſpeech,

Though haply well for you.

Arui. Your danger's ours.

Guid. And our good his.

Bel. Haue at it then, by leaque

Thou hadd't (great King) a Subieſt, who
Was call'd Belarius.

Cym. What of him? He is a banifh'd Traitor.

Bel. He it is, that hath

Aſſum'd this age: indeed a banifh'd man,

I

The Tragedy of Cymbeline.

398

I know not how, a Traitor.

Cym. Take him hence,
The whole world shall not faue him.

Bel. Not too hot;

Firft pay me for the Nursing of thy Sonnes,
And let it be confiſcate all, ſo ſoone
As I haue receuy'd it.

Cym. Nursing of my Sonnes?

Bel. I am too blunt, and ſawcy : heere's my knee:
Ere I arife, I will preferre my Sonnes,
Then ſpare not the old Father. Mighty Sir,
Theſe two young Gentlemen that call me Father,
And thinke they are my Sonnes, are none of mine,
They are the yſſue of your Loynes, my Liege,
And blood of your begetting.

Cym. How? my Illue.

Bel. So ſure as you, your Fathers : I (old Morgan)
Am that Belarius, whom you ſometime banifh'd :
Your ſpleature was my neere offence, my puniſhment
It ſelfe, and all my Treason that I ſuffer'd,
Was all the harme I did. Theſe gentle Princes
(For ſuch, and ſo they are) theſe twenty yeares
Hau'd I train'd vp; thofe Arts they haue, as I
Could put into them. My breeding was (Sir)
As your Highneſſe knowes: Their Nurse Euriphe
(Whom for the Theft I wedded) ſtole theſe Children
Vpon my Baniſhment: I moou'd her too't,
Hauing receuy'd the puniſhment before
For that which I did then. Beaten for Loyaltie,
Excited me to Treason. Their deere loſſe,
The more of you 'twas felt, the more it ſhap'd
Vnto my end of ſealing them. But gracious Sir,
Heere are your Sonnes againe, and I muſt loſſe
Two of the sweetest Companions in the World.
The benediction of theſe couering Heauens
Fall on their heads liks dew, for they are worthie
To in-lay Heauen with Starres.

Cym. Thou weep'st, and ſpeak'st :
The ſeruice that you three haue done, is more
Vnlike, then this thou tell'st. I loft my Children,
If theſe be they, I know not how to wifh
A payre of worthier Sonnes.

Bel. Be pleas'd awhile ;

This Gentleman, whom I call Polidore,
Moſt worthy Prince, as yours, is true Guiderius:
This Gentleman, my Cadwall, Aruiragus.
Your yonger Princely Son, he Sir, was lapt
In a moſt curious Mantle, wrought by th'hand
Of his Queene Mother, which for more probation
I can with eſe produce.

Cym. Guiderius had
Vpon his necke a Mole, a ſanguine Starre,
It was a marke of wonder,

Bel. This is he,..
Who hath upon him fill that naturall ſtampe:
It was wife Natures end, in the donation
To be his evidence now.

Cym. Oh, what am I
A Mother to the byrth of three ? Nere Mother
Reioy'd deliverance more: Bleft, pray you be,
That after this ſtrange starting from your Orbes,
You may reigne in them now: Oh Imogen,
Thou haſt loſſ by this a Kingdome.

Imo. No, my Lord:
I haue got two Worlds by't. Oh my gentle Brothers,
Hauë we thus met ? Oh neuer ſay heereafter

But I am trueſt ſpeaker. You call'd me Brother
When I was but your Sifter : I you Brothers,
When we were ſo indeed.

Cym. Did you ere meete?

Arui. I my good Lord.

Gui. And at firſt meeting lou'd,

Continew'd ſo, vntill we thought he dyed.

Corn. By the Queenes Dramme ſhe ſwallow'd,

Cym. O rare inſiſt!

When ſhall I heare all through't This ſterſe abridgment,
Hath to it Circumſtanciall branches, which
Diſtinction ſhould be rich in. Where? how liu'd you?

And when came you to ſerue our Romane Captive?
How parted with your Brother? How firſt met them?

Why ſled you from the Court? And whether theſe ?

And your three motiues to the Battaile ? with
I know not how much more ſhould be demanded,

And all the other by-dependances
From chance to chance ? But nor the Time, nor Place
Will ſerue our long Interrogatories. See,
Poſt humus Anchors vpon Imogen ;

And ſhe (like harmeſſe Lightning) throwes her eye
On him : her Brothers, Me: her Maſter hitting
Each obiect with a loy: the Counter-change
Is feuerally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And ſmoake the Temple with our ſacrifices.

Thou art my Brother, ſo wee'l hold thee euer.

Imo. You are my Father too, and did relecue me:
To ſee this gracious ſeason.

Cym. All ore-loy'd

Sauethethe in bonds, let them beioyfull too,
For they ſhall taſte our Comfort.

Imo. My good Maſter, I will yet do you ſeruice.

Luc. Happy be you.

Cym. The forlorne Souldier, that no Nobly fought
He would haue well becom'd this place, and grac'd
The thankings of a King.

Poſt. I am Sir

The Souldier that did company theſe three
In poore beſeming: 'twas a fitment for
The purpose I then follow'd. That I was he,
Speake Iachimo, I had you downe, and might
Hauë made you finiſh.

Iach. I am downe againe :
But now my heauie Conſcience ſinkes my knee,
As then your force did. Take that life, beſeech you
Which I ſo often owe: but your Ring firſt,
And heere the Bracelet of the trueſt Princesſe
That euer ſwore her Faith.

Poſt. Knee not to me :
The powre that I haue on you, is to ſpare you:
The malice towards you, to forgiue you. Liue
And deale with others better.

Cym. Nobly doom'd :
Wee'l learne our Freeneſſe of a Sonne-in-Law:
Pardon's the word to all.

Arui. You holpe vs Sir,
As you did meane indeed to be our Brother,
Ioy'd are we, that you are.

Poſt. Your Servant Princes. Good my Lord of Rome
Call forth your Sooth-fayer: As I ſlept, me thought
Great Jupiter vpon his Eagle back'd
Appeard to me, with other ſlightly ſhewes
Of mine owne Kindred. When I wak'd, I found
This Labell on my boſome ; whoseſt containing
Is ſo from ſenſe in hardneſſe, that I can

Make

The Tragedy of Cymbeline.

993

Make no Collection of it. Let him shew
His skill in the construction.

Luc. Philarmonie.

Sooth. Heere, my good Lord.

Luc. Read, and declare the meaning.

Reades.

W Hen as a Lyons whelpe, shall to himselfe vnknown, with-
out seeking finde, and bee embrac'd by a piece of tender
Ayre: And when from a stately Cedar shall be lopt branches,
which being dead many yeares, shall after reuiue, bee ioynted to
the old Stocke, and freshly grow, then shall Poffumus end his
miferies, Britaine be fortunate, and flourish in Peace and Plen-
tife.

Thou Leenatus art the Lyons Whelpe,
The fit and apt Construction of thy name
Being Leenatus, doth import so much:
The piece of tender Ayre, thy vertuous Daughter,
Which we call Mollis Aer, and Mollis Aer
We terme it Mulier; which Multer I diuine
Is this moft constant Wife, who euen now
Answering the Letter of the Oracle,
Vnknowne to you vnfought, were clipt about
With this moft tender Aire.

Cym. This hath some feeming.

Sooth. The lofty Cedar, Royall Cymbeline
Perfonates thee: And thy lopt Branches, point
Thy two Sonnes forth: who by Belarius ftolne
For many yeares thought dead, are now reuiu'd
To the Maiesticke Cedar ioyn'd; whose Issue

Promifes Britaine, Peace and Plenty.

Cym. Well,

My Peace we will begin: And Caius Lucius,
Although the Victor, we submit to Cæsar,
And to the Romane Empire; promifing
To pay our wonted Tribute, from the which
We were diffwaded by our wicked Queene,
Whom heauens in Iuftice both on her, and hers,
Haue laid moſt heavy hand.

Sooth. The fingers of the Powres aboue, do tune
The harmony of this Peace: the Vifion
Which I made knowne to Lucius ere the flroke
Of yet this scarfe-cold-Battaile, at this inſant
Is full accompliſh'd. For the Romaine Eagle
From South to Weſt, on wing ſoaring aloft
Leſſen'd her ſelfe, and in the Beames o'th'Sun
So vaniſh'd; which fore ſhew'd our Princely Eagle
Th'Imperiall Cæsar, ſhould againe vnite
His Fauour, with the Radiant Cymbeline,
Which ſhines heere in the Weſt.

Cym. Laud we the Gods,
And let our crooked Smoakes climbe to their Noftrils
From our bleſt Altars. Publifh ſ we this Peace
To all our Subjeſts. Set we forward: Let
A Roman, and a Britiſh Enſigne wave
Friendly together: ſo through Luds-Towne march,
And in the Temple of great Jupiter
Our Peace wee'l ratifie: Seale it with Feaſts.
Set on there: Neuer was a Warre did ceafe
(Ere bloodie hands were waiſh'd) with ſuch a Peace.

Exeunt.

FINIS.

Printed at the Charges of W. Faggard, Ed. Blount, I. Smith, W. Aspley, and W. Aspley, 1623.