we coted them on the way; and hither are they coming, to offer you fervice.

Ham. He that plays the king, fhall be welcome; his majesty shall have tribute of me; the adventrous knight shall use his foil and target: the lover shall not figh gratis: the humorous man shall end his part in peace: the clown fhall make those laugh, whose lungs are tickled o'the fere : and the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse fhall halt for't.-What players are they?

Rof. Even thofe you were wont to take such delight in, the tragedians of the city..

Ham. How chances it, they travel? their refidence, both in reputation and profit, was better both ways.

Ros. I think, their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation.

Ham. Do they hold the fame eftimation they did when I was in the city? Are they fo follow'd?

Rof. No, indeed, they are not.

Ham. How comes it? Do they grow rufty?

Rof. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace: But there is, fir, an aiery of children, little eyafes, that, cry out on the top of queftion, and are most tyrannically clapp'd for't: these are now the fashion; and fo berattle the common stages, (fo they call them) that many, wearing rapiers, are afraid of goofe quills, and dare scarce come thither.

Ham. What, are they children? Who maintains them? how are they efcoted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can fing? will they not fay afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common players, (as it is most like, if their means are no better,) their writers do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their own fucceffion?

Rof. 'Faith, there has been much to do on both fides; and the nation holds it no fin, to tarre them on to contro

5

verfy:

verfy: there was, for a while, no money bid for argument, unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question. Ham. Is it poffible?

Guil. O, there has been much throwing about of brains. Ham. Do the boys carry it away?

Rof. Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and his load too.

Ham. It is not very ftrange: for my uncle is king of Denmark; and those, that would make mouths at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an hundred ducats a-piece, for his picture in little. 'Sblood, there is fomething in this more than natural, if philofophy could find it out. [Flourish of trumpets within.

Guil. There are the players.

Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elfinore. Your hands. Come then; the appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony: let me comply with you in this garb; left my extent to the players, which, I tell you, muft show fairly outward, fhould more appear like entertainment than yours. You are welcome; but my uncle. father, and aunt-mother, are deceived.

Guil. In what, my dear lord?

Ham. I am but mad north-north weft; when the wind is foutherly, I know a hawk from a handfaw.

Enter POLONIUS.

Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen!

Ham. Hark you, Guildenftern;-and you too;-at each ear a hearer: that great baby, you fee there, is not yet out of his fwadling-clouts.

Rof. Haply, he's the second time come to them; for, they fay, an old man is twice a child.

Ham. I will prophecy, he comes to tell me of the players; mark it.-You fay right, fir: o'monday morn ing; 'twas then, indeed.

Pola

Pol. My lord, I have news to tell you.

. Ham. My lord, I have news to tell you. When Rofcius was an actor in Rome.

Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord.

Ham. Buz, buz!

Pol. Upon my honour

Ham. Then came each actor on his ass

Pol. The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, hiftory, paftoral, paftoral-comical, hiftorical-pa ftoral, tragical-historical, tragical-comical, historical-pa ftoral, scene individable, or poem unlimited: Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light. For the law of writ, and the liberty, these are the only men.

Ham. O Jephtha, judge of Ifrael,-what a treasure hadft thou!

Pol. What a treasure had he, my lord?

Ham. Why-One fair daughter, and no more,

The which he loved paffing well.

Pol. Still on my daughter.

Ham. Am I not i'the right, old Jephtha?

[Afide.

Pol. If you call me Jephtha, my lord, I have a daughter,

that I love paffing well.

Ham. Nay, that follows not.

Pol. What follows then, my lord?

Ham. Why, As by lot, God wot, and then, you know, It came to pass, As most like it was.-The first row of the pious chanfon will show you more; for look, my abridge.

ment comes.

Enter four or five Players.

You are welcome, mafters! welcome, all :—I am glad to fee thee well: welcome, good friends-O, old friend! Why thy face is valanced fince I faw thee laft. Com'st thou to beard me in Denmark?-What? my young lady and mis trefs! By-'r-lady, your ladyfhip is nearer to heaven, than

when

when I faw you laft, by the altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, be not crack'd within the ring.-Mafters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en to't like French falconers, fly at any thing we fee: We'll have a speech straight. Come, give us a taste of your quality; come, a paffionate speech.

1. Play. What speech, my lord?

Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once,-but it was never acted; or, if it was, not above once: for the play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas caviare to the general: but it was (as I received it, and others, whofe judgments, in such matters, cried in the top of mine,) an excellent play; well digefted in the scenes, fet down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember, one said, there were no fallets in the lines, to make the matter savoury; nor no matter in the phrase, that might indite the author of affection: but call'd it, an honest method, as wholefome as fweet, and by very much more handfome than fine. One speech in it I chiefly loved: 'twas Æneas' tale to Dido; and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of Priam's slaughter: If it live in your memory, begin at this line; let me fee, let me fee :

The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beaft,-'tis not fo; it begins with Pyrrhus.

The rugged Pyrrhus,-be, whofe fable arms,
Black as bis purpofe, did the night refemble

When he lay couched in the ominous horse,

Hath now this dread and black complexion fmear'd
With heraldry more difmal; head to foot

Now is he total gules; horridly trick'd

With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, fons;
Bak'd and impafted with the parching freets,
That lend a tyrannous and a damned light
Te their lord's murder: Roasted in wrath, and fire,

And

And thus o'er-fized with coagulate gore,

With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
Old grandfire Priam feeks.-So proceed you.

Pol. 'Fore God, my lord, well spoken; with good accent, and good difcretion.

1. Play. Anon he finds him

Striking too short at Greeks; his antique fword,
Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
Repugnant to command: Unequal match'd,
Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage, ftrikes wide;
But with the whiff and wind of his fell fword
The unnerved father falls. Then fenfelefs Ilium,
Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
Stoops to his bafe; and, with a hideous crash,
Takes prifoner Pyrrhus' ear; for, lo! his fword,
Which was declining on the milky head

Of reverend Priam, feem'd i'the air to flick:
So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood;
And, like a neutral to his will and matter,
Did nothing.

But, as we often fee, against some storm,
A filence in the heavens, the rack ftand ftill,
The bold winds fpeechless, and the orb below
As hub as death: anon, the dreadful thunder
Doth rend the region: So, after Pyrrhus' pauses
A roufed vengeance fets him new a work;
And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
On Mars's armour, forg'd for proof eterne,
With less remorfe than Pyrrhus' bleeding fword
Now falls on Priam.-

Out, out, thou firumpet, Fortune! All you gods,
In general fynod, take away her power;
Break all the fpakes and fellies from her wheel,

And