Why to a publick count I might not go,
Is, the great love the general gender bear him:
Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
Work like the spring that turneth wood to stone,
Convert his gyves to graces; so that my arrows,
Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind,
Would have reverted to my bow again,
And not where I had aim'd them.

Laer. And so have I a noble father lost;
A sister driven into desperate terms;
Whose worth, if praises may go back again,
Stood challenger on mount of all the age

For her perfections: But my revenge will come. King. Break not your sleeps for that; you must not think,

That we are made of stuff so flat and dull,
That we can let our beard be shook with danger,
And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more:
I lov'd your father, and we love ourself;

And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine,
How now? what news ?

Enter a Messenger.

ད

Mess. Letters, my Lord, from Hamlet: This to your Majesty; this to the Queen. King. From Hamlet! Who brought them? Mess. Sailors, my Lord, they say: I saw them

not;

They were given me by Claudio, he receiv'd them Of him that brought them.

King. Laertes you shall hear them: — Leave us. [Exit Messenger. [Reads.] High and mighty, you shall know, I am set raked on your kingdom. Tomorrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes: when

I shall, first asking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my sudden and more strange return. Hamlet.

What should this mean? Are all the rest come

back?

Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?
Laer. Know you the hand?

King. 'Tis Hamlet's character. Naked,-
And, in a postscript here, he says, alone:
Can you advise me?

Laer. I am lost in it, my Lord. But let him

come;

It warms the very sickness in my heart,

That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,
Thus diddest thou.

King. If it be so, Laertes,

-

As how should it be so ?how otherwise?
Will you be rul'd by me?

Laer: Ay, my Lord;

So you will not o'er-rule me to a peace.

King. To thine own peace. If he be now return'd,

As checking at his voyage, and that he means
No more to undertake it, I will work him
To an exploit, now ripe in my device,

Under the which he shall not choose but fall:
And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe;
But even his mother shall uncharge the practice,
And call it, accident.

Laer. My Lord, I will be rul'd;

The rather, if you could devise it so,
That I might be the organ.

King. It falls right.

You have been talk'd of since your travel much,

And that in Hamlet's hearing, for

a quality

Wherein, they say, you shine! your sum of parts

Did not together pluck such envy from him,
As did that one; and that, in my regard,
Of the unworthiest siege.

Laer. What part is that, my Lord?
King. A very ribbaud in the cap of youth,
Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes
The light and careless livery that it wears,
Than settled age his sables, and his weeds,
Importing health and graveness. Two months

since,

Here was a gentleman of Normandy, ·

I have seen myself, and serv'd against, the French,
And they can well ou horseback: but this gallant
Had witchcraft in't; he grew unto his seat;
And to such wond'rous doing brought his horse,
As he had been incorps'd and demi-uatur'd
With the brave beast: so far he topp'd my thought,
That 1, in forgery of shapes and tricks,
Come short of what he did.

And gem of all the nation.

he is the brooch,

indeed,

King. He made confession of you:
And gave you such a masterly report,
For art and exercise in your defence,
And for your rapier most especial,

That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed,
If one could match you: the scrimers of their

nation,

He swore, had neither motion, guard, nor eye,
If you oppos'd them: Sir, this report of his
Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy,

That he could nothing do, but wish and beg
Your sudden coming o'er, to play with you.
Now, out of this,

Laer. What out of this, my Lord?

King. Laertes, was your father dear to you? Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, A face without a heart?

Laer. Why ask you this?

King. Nor that I think, you did not love your father;

But that I know, love is begun by time;
And that I see, in passages of proof,
Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
There lives within the very flame of love
A kind of wick, or suuff, that will abate it;
And nothing is at a like goodness still;
For goodness, growing to a plurisy,

Dies in his own too-much: That we would do, We should do when we would; for this would changes,

And bath abatements and delays as many,

As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;
And then this should is like a spendthrift sigh,
That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o'the
ulcer:

Hamlet comes back; What would you undertake,
To show yourself in deed your father's son
More than in words?

Laer. To cut his throat i'the church.

King. No place, indeed, should murder sanc

tuarize;

Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes,
Will you do this, keep close within
your chamber:
Hamlet, return'd, shall know you are come home:
We'll put on those shall praise your excellence,
And set a double varnish on the fame

112

Ꮋ Ꭺ Ꮇ Ꮮ Ꭼ Ꭲ, .

The Frenchman gave you; bring you, in fine, together,

And wager o'er your heads: he, being remiss,
Most generous, and free from all contriving,
Will not peruse the foils; so that, with ease,
Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
A sword unbated, and, in a pass of practice,
Reqnite him for your father.

Laer. I will do't:

And, for the purpose, I'll anoint my sword.
I bought an unction of a mountebank,

So mortal, that, but dip a knife in it,
Where it draws blood, no cataplasm so rare,
Collected from all simples that have virtue

Under the moon, can save the thing from death,
That is but scratch'd withal: I'll touch my point
With this contagion; that, if I gall him slightly,
It may be death.

King. Let's farther think of this;

Weigh, what convenience, both of time and means, May fit us to our shape: if this should fail,

And that our drift look through our bad perform

ance,

'Twere better not assay'd; therefore, this project Should have a back, or second, that might hold, If this should blast in proof. Soft; let me

see:

We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings, 1 ha't:

When in your motion you are hot and dry,

(As make your bouts more violent to that end,) And that he calls for drink, I'll have preferr❜ð

him

A chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping,
If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck,
Our purpose may hold there. But stay, what noise?

Enter