Shakespeare's First Folio Part 584

Guild. Nay, good my Lord, this courtesie is not of the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholsome answer, I will doe your Mothers command'ment: 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 wholsome answere: my wits diseas'd.

But sir, such answers as I can make, you shal command: or rather you say, my Mother: therfore no more but to the matter. My Mother you say

Rosin. Then thus she sayes: your behauior hath stroke her into amazement, and admiration

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

Rosin. She desires to speake with you in her Closset, ere you go to bed

Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our Mother.

Haue you any further Trade with vs?

Rosin. My Lord, you once did loue me

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

Rosin. Good my Lord, what is your cause of distemper?

You do freely barre the doore of your owne Libertie, if you deny your greefes to your Friend

Ham. Sir I lacke Aduancement

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

Ham. I, but while the gra.s.se growes, the Prouerbe is something musty.

Enter one with a Recorder.

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

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

Ham. I do not well vnderstand that. Will you play vpon 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 easie as lying: gouerne these Ventiges with your finger and thumbe, giue it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most excellent Musicke.

Looke you, these are the stoppes

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

Enter Polonius.

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

Ham. Do you see that Clowd? that's almost in shape like a Camell

Polon. By'th' Ma.s.se, 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 foole me to the top of my bent.

I will come by and by

Polon. I will say so.

Enter.

Ham. By and by, is easily said. Leaue me Friends: 'Tis now the verie witching time of night, When Churchyards yawne, and h.e.l.l it selfe breaths out Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter businesse as the day Would quake to looke on. Soft now, to my Mother: Oh Heart, loose not thy Nature; let not euer The Soule of Nero, enter this firme bosome: Let me be cruell, not vnnaturall, 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 Seales, neuer my Soule consent.

Enter King, Rosincrance, and Guildensterne.

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 termes of our estate, may not endure Hazard so dangerous as doth hourely grow Out of his Lunacies

Guild. We will our selues prouide: Most holie and Religious feare it is To keepe those many many bodies safe That liue and feede vpon your Maiestie

Rosin. 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 rests The liues of many, the cease of Maiestie Dies not alone; but like a Gulfe doth draw What's neere it, with it. It is a ma.s.sie wheele Fixt on the Somnet of the highest Mount.

To whose huge Spoakes, ten thousand lesser 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 sighe, but with a generall grone

King. Arme you, I pray you to this speedie Voyage; For we will Fetters put vpon this feare, Which now goes too free-footed

Both. We will haste vs.

Exeunt. Gent.

Enter Polonius.

Pol. My Lord, he's going to his Mothers Closset: Behinde the Arras Ile conuey my selfe To heare the Processe. Ile warrant shee'l tax him home, And as you said, and wisely 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 vpon you ere you go to bed, And tell you what I know

King. Thankes deere 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 pause 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 fore-stalled ere we come to fall, Or pardon'd being downe? Then Ile looke vp, My fault is past. But oh, what forme of Prayer Can serue my turne? Forgiue me my foule Murther: That cannot be, since I am still possest Of those effects for which I did the Murther.

My Crowne, mine owne Ambition, and my Queene: May one be pardon'd, and retaine th' offence?

In the corrupted currants of this world, Offences gilded hand may shoue 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 forehead of our faults, To giue in euidence. 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 a.s.say: Bow stubborne knees, and heart with strings of Steele, Be soft as sinewes of the new-borne Babe, All may be well.