Shakespeare's First Folio (part 11 of 12)

Shakespeare's First Folio (part 11 of 12)

1. If it be found so, some will deere abide it

2. Poore soule, his eyes are red as fire with weeping

3. There's not a Nobler man in Rome then Antony

4. Now marke him, he begins againe to speake

Ant. But yesterday, the word of Caesar might Haue stood against the World: Now lies he there, And none so poore to do him reuerence. O Maisters! If I were dispos'd to stirre Your hearts and mindes to Mutiny and Rage, I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong: Who (you all know) are Honourable men. I will not do them wrong: I rather choose To wrong the dead, to wrong my selfe and you, Then I will wrong such Honourable men. But heere's a Parchment, with the Seale of Caesar, I found it in his Closset, 'tis his Will: Let but the Commons heare this Testament: (Which pardon me) I do not meane to reade, And they would go and kisse dead Caesars wounds, And dip their Napkins in his Sacred Blood; Yea, begge a haire of him for Memory, And dying, mention it within their Willes, Bequeathing it as a rich Legacie Vnto their issue

4 Wee'l heare the Will, reade it Marke Antony

All. The Will, the Will; we will heare Caesars Will

Ant. Haue patience gentle Friends, I must not read it. It is not meete you know how Caesar lou'd you: You are not Wood, you are not Stones, but men: And being men, hearing the Will of Caesar, It will inflame you, it will make you mad: 'Tis good you know not that you are his Heires, For if you should, O what would come of it? 4 Read the Will, wee'l heare it Antony: You shall reade vs the Will, Caesars Will

Ant. Will you be Patient? Will you stay a-while? I haue o're-shot my selfe to tell you of it, I feare I wrong the Honourable men, Whose Daggers haue stabb'd Caesar: I do feare it

4 They were Traitors: Honourable men? All. The Will, the Testament

2 They were Villaines, Murderers: the Will, read the Will

Ant. You will compell me then to read the Will: Then make a Ring about the Corpes of Caesar, And let me shew you him that made the Will: Shall I descend? And will you giue me leaue? All. Come downe

2 Descend

3 You shall haue leaue

4 A Ring, stand round

1 Stand from the Hearse, stand from the Body

2 Roome for Antony, most Noble Antony

Ant. Nay presse not so vpon me, stand farre off

All. Stand backe: roome, beare backe

Ant. If you haue teares, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this Mantle, I remember The first time euer Caesar put it on, 'Twas on a Summers Euening in his Tent, That day he ouercame the Neruij. Looke, in this place ran Cassius Dagger through: See what a rent the enuious Caska made: Through this, the wel-beloued Brutus stabb'd, And as he pluck'd his cursed Steele away: Marke how the blood of Caesar followed it, As rushing out of doores, to be resolu'd If Brutus so vnkindely knock'd, or no: For Brutus, as you know, was Caesars Angel. Iudge, O you Gods, how deerely Caesar lou'd him: This was the most vnkindest cut of all. For when the Noble Caesar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong then Traitors armes, Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his Mighty heart, And in his Mantle, muffling vp his face, Euen at the Base of Pompeyes Statue (Which all the while ran blood) great Caesar fell. O what a fall was there, my Countrymen? Then I, and you, and all of vs fell downe, Whil'st bloody Treason flourish'd ouer vs. O now you weepe, and I perceiue you feele The dint of pitty: These are gracious droppes. Kinde Soules, what weepe you, when you but behold Our Caesars Vesture wounded? Looke you heere, Heere is Himselfe, marr'd as you see with Traitors

1. O pitteous spectacle! 2. O Noble Caesar! 3. O wofull day! 4. O Traitors, Villaines! 1. O most bloody sight! 2. We will be reueng'd: Reuenge About, seeke, burne, fire, kill, slay, Let not a Traitor liue

Ant. Stay Country-men

1. Peace there, heare the Noble Antony

2. Wee'l heare him, wee'l follow him, wee'l dy with him

Ant. Good Friends, sweet Friends, let me not stirre you vp To such a sodaine Flood of Mutiny: They that haue done this Deede, are honourable. What priuate greefes they haue, alas I know not, That made them do it: They are Wise, and Honourable, And will no doubt with Reasons answer you. I come not (Friends) to steale away your hearts, I am no Orator, as Brutus is: But (as you know me all) a plaine blunt man That loue my Friend, and that they know full well, That gaue me publike leaue to speake of him: For I haue neyther writ nor words, nor worth, Action, nor Vtterance, nor the power of Speech, To stirre mens Blood. I onely speake right on: I tell you that, which you your selues do know, Shew you sweet Caesars wounds, poor poor dum mouths And bid them speake for me: But were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle vp your Spirits, and put a Tongue In euery Wound of Caesar, that should moue The stones of Rome, to rise and Mutiny

All. Wee'l Mutiny

1 Wee'l burne the house of Brutus

3 Away then, come, seeke the Conspirators

Ant. Yet heare me Countrymen, yet heare me speake All. Peace hoe, heare Antony, most Noble Antony

Ant. Why Friends, you go to do you know not what: Wherein hath Caesar thus deseru'd your loues? Alas you know not, I must tell you then: You haue forgot the Will I told you of

All. Most true, the Will, let's stay and heare the Wil

Ant. Heere is the Will, and vnder Caesars Seale: To euery Roman Citizen he giues, To euery seuerall man, seuenty fiue Drachmaes

2 Ple. Most Noble Caesar, wee'l reuenge his death

3 Ple. O Royall Caesar

Ant. Heare me with patience

All. Peace hoe Ant. Moreouer, he hath left you all his Walkes, His priuate Arbors, and new-planted Orchards, On this side Tyber, he hath left them you, And to your heyres for euer: common pleasures To walke abroad, and recreate your selues. Heere was a Caesar: when comes such another? 1.Ple. Neuer, neuer: come, away, away: Wee'l burne his body in the holy place, And with the Brands fire the Traitors houses. Take vp the body

2.Ple. Go fetch fire

3.Ple. Plucke downe Benches

4.Ple. Plucke downe Formes, Windowes, any thing.

Exit Plebeians.

Ant. Now let it worke: Mischeefe thou art a-foot, Take thou what course thou wilt. How now Fellow? Enter Seruant.

Ser. Sir, Octauius is already come to Rome

Ant. Where is hee? Ser. He and Lepidus are at Caesars house

Ant. And thither will I straight, to visit him: He comes vpon a wish. Fortune is merry, And in this mood will giue vs any thing

Ser. I heard him say, Brutus and Cassius Are rid like Madmen through the Gates of Rome

Ant. Belike they had some notice of the people How I had moued them. Bring me to Octauius.

Exeunt.

Enter Cinna the Poet, and after him the Plebeians.

Cinna. I dreamt to night, that I did feast with Caesar, And things vnluckily charge my Fantasie: I haue no will to wander foorth of doores, Yet something leads me foorth

1. What is your name? 2. Whether are you going? 3. Where do you dwell? 4. Are you a married man, or a Batchellor? 2. Answer euery man directly

1. I, and breefely

4. I, and wisely

3. I, and truly, you were best

Cin. What is my name? Whether am I going? Where do I dwell? Am I a married man, or a Batchellour? Then to answer euery man, directly and breefely, wisely and truly: wisely I say, I am a Batchellor

2 That's as much as to say, they are fooles that marrie: you'l beare me a bang for that I feare: proceede directly

Cinna. Directly I am going to Caesars Funerall

1. As a Friend, or an Enemy? Cinna. As a friend

2. That matter is answered directly

4. For your dwelling: breefely

Cinna. Breefely, I dwell by the Capitoll

3. Your name sir, truly

Cinna. Truly, my name is Cinna

1. Teare him to peeces, hee's a Conspirator

Cinna. I am Cinna the Poet, I am Cinna the Poet

4. Teare him for his bad verses, teare him for his bad Verses

Cin. I am not Cinna the Conspirator

4. It is no matter, his name's Cinna, plucke but his name out of his heart, and turne him going

3. Teare him, tear him; Come Brands hoe, Firebrands: to Brutus, to Cassius, burne all. Some to Decius House, and some to Caska's; some to Ligarius: Away, go.

Exeunt. all the Plebeians.

Actus Quartus.

Enter Antony, Octauius, and Lepidus.

Ant. These many then shall die, their names are prickt Octa. Your Brother too must dye: consent you Lepidus? Lep. I do consent

Octa. Pricke him downe Antony

Lep. Vpon condition Publius shall not liue, Who is your Sisters sonne, Marke Antony

Ant. He shall not liue; looke, with a spot I dam him. But Lepidus, go you to Caesars house: Fetch the Will hither, and we shall determine How to cut off some charge in Legacies

Lep. What? shall I finde you heere? Octa. Or heere, or at the Capitoll.

Exit Lepidus

Ant. This is a slight vnmeritable man, Meet to be sent on Errands: is it fit The three-fold World diuided, he should stand One of the three to share it? Octa. So you thought him, And tooke his voyce who should be prickt to dye In our blacke Sentence and Proscription

Ant. Octauius, I haue seene more dayes then you, And though we lay these Honours on this man, To ease our selues of diuers sland'rous loads, He shall but beare them, as the Asse beares Gold, To groane and swet vnder the Businesse, Either led or driuen, as we point the way: And hauing brought our Treasure, where we will, Then take we downe his Load, and turne him off (Like to the empty Asse) to shake his eares, And graze in Commons

Octa. You may do your will: But hee's a tried, and valiant Souldier

Ant. So is my Horse Octauius, and for that I do appoint him store of Prouender. It is a Creature that I teach to fight, To winde, to stop, to run directly on: His corporall Motion, gouern'd by my Spirit, And in some taste, is Lepidus but so: He must be taught, and train'd, and bid go forth: A barren spirited Fellow; one that feeds On Obiects, Arts, and Imitations. Which out of vse, and stal'de by other men Begin his fashion. Do not talke of him, But as a property: and now Octauius, Listen great things. Brutus and Cassius Are leuying Powers; We must straight make head: Therefore let our Alliance be combin'd, Our best Friends made, our meanes stretcht, And let vs presently go sit in Councell, How couert matters may be best disclos'd, And open Perils surest answered

Octa. Let vs do so: for we are at the stake, And bayed about with many Enemies, And some that smile haue in their hearts I feare Millions of Mischeefes.

Exeunt.

Drum. Enter Brutus, Lucillius, and the Army. Titinius and Pindarus meete them.

Bru. Stand ho

Lucil. Giue the word ho, and Stand

Bru. What now Lucillius, is Cassius neere? Lucil. He is at hand, and Pindarus is come To do you salutation from his Master

Bru. He greets me well. Your Master Pindarus In his owne change, or by ill Officers, Hath giuen me some worthy cause to wish Things done, vndone: But if he be at hand I shall be satisfied

Pin. I do not doubt But that my Noble Master will appeare Such as he is, full of regard, and Honour

Bru. He is not doubted. A word Lucillius How he receiu'd you: let me be resolu'd

Lucil. With courtesie, and with respect enough, But not with such familiar instances, Nor with such free and friendly Conference As he hath vs'd of old

Bru. Thou hast describ'd A hot Friend, cooling: Euer note Lucillius, When Loue begins to sicken and decay It vseth an enforced Ceremony. There are no trickes, in plaine and simple Faith: But hollow men, like Horses hot at hand, Make gallant shew, and promise of their Mettle:

Low March within.

But when they should endure the bloody Spurre, They fall their Crests, and like deceitfull Iades Sinke in the Triall. Comes his Army on? Lucil. They meane this night in Sardis to be quarter'd: The greater part, the Horse in generall Are come with Cassius. Enter Cassius and his Powers.

Bru. Hearke, he is arriu'd: March gently on to meete him

Cassi. Stand ho

Bru. Stand ho, speake the word along. Stand. Stand. Stand

Cassi. Most Noble Brother, you haue done me wrong

Bru. Iudge me you Gods; wrong I mine Enemies? And if not so, how should I wrong a Brother

Cassi. Brutus, this sober forme of yours, hides wrongs, And when you do them- Brut. Cassius, be content, Speake your greefes softly, I do know you well. Before the eyes of both our Armies heere (Which should perceiue nothing but Loue from vs) Let vs not wrangle. Bid them moue away: Then in my Tent Cassius enlarge your Greefes, And I will giue you Audience

Cassi. Pindarus, Bid our Commanders leade their Charges off A little from this ground

Bru. Lucillius, do you the like, and let no man Come to our Tent, till we haue done our Conference. Let Lucius and Titinius guard our doore.

Exeunt.

Manet Brutus and Cassius.

Cassi. That you haue wrong'd me, doth appear in this: You haue condemn'd, and noted Lucius Pella For taking Bribes heere of the Sardians; Wherein my Letters, praying on his side, Because I knew the man was slighted off

Bru. You wrong'd your selfe to write in such a case

Cassi. In such a time as this, it is not meet That euery nice offence should beare his Comment

Bru. Let me tell you Cassius, you your selfe Are much condemn'd to haue an itching Palme, To sell, and Mart your Offices for Gold To Vndeseruers

Cassi. I, an itching Palme? You know that you are Brutus that speakes this, Or by the Gods, this speech were else your last

Bru. The name of Cassius Honors this corruption, And Chasticement doth therefore hide his head

Cassi. Chasticement? Bru. Remember March, the Ides of March reme[m]ber: Did not great Iulius bleede for Iustice sake? What Villaine touch'd his body, that did stab, And not for Iustice? What? Shall one of Vs, That strucke the Formost man of all this World, But for supporting Robbers: shall we now, Contaminate our fingers, with base Bribes? And sell the mighty space of our large Honors For so much trash, as may be grasped thus? I had rather be a Dogge, and bay the Moone, Then such a Roman

Cassi. Brutus, baite not me, Ile not indure it: you forget your selfe To hedge me in. I am a Souldier, I, Older in practice, Abler then your selfe To make Conditions

Bru. Go too: you are not Cassius

Cassi. I am

Bru. I say, you are not

Cassi. Vrge me no more, I shall forget my selfe: Haue minde vpon your health: Tempt me no farther

Bru. Away slight man

Cassi. Is't possible? Bru. Heare me, for I will speake. Must I giue way, and roome to your rash Choller? Shall I be frighted, when a Madman stares? Cassi. O ye Gods, ye Gods, Must I endure all this? Bru. All this? I more: Fret till your proud hart break. Go shew your Slaues how Chollericke you are, And make your Bondmen tremble. Must I bouge? Must I obserue you? Must I stand and crouch Vnder your Testie Humour? By the Gods, You shall digest the Venom of your Spleene Though it do Split you. For, from this day forth, Ile vse you for my Mirth, yea for my Laughter When you are Waspish

Cassi. Is it come to this? Bru. You say, you are a better Souldier: Let it appeare so; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well. For mine owne part, I shall be glad to learne of Noble men

Cass. You wrong me euery way: You wrong me Brutus: I saide, an Elder Souldier, not a Better. Did I say Better? Bru. If you did, I care not

Cass. When Caesar liu'd, he durst not thus haue mou'd me

Brut. Peace, peace, you durst not so haue tempted him

Cassi. I durst not

Bru. No

Cassi. What? durst not tempt him? Bru. For your life you durst not

Cassi. Do not presume too much vpon my Loue, I may do that I shall be sorry for

Bru. You haue done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror Cassius in your threats: For I am Arm'd so strong in Honesty, That they passe by me, as the idle winde, Which I respect not. I did send to you For certaine summes of Gold, which you deny'd me, For I can raise no money by vile meanes: By Heauen, I had rather Coine my Heart, And drop my blood for Drachmaes, then to wring From the hard hands of Peazants, their vile trash By any indirection. I did send To you for Gold to pay my Legions, Which you deny'd me: was that done like Cassius? Should I haue answer'd Caius Cassius so? When Marcus Brutus growes so Couetous, To locke such Rascall Counters from his Friends, Be ready Gods with all your Thunder-bolts, Dash him to peeces

Cassi. I deny'd you not

Bru. You did

Cassi. I did not. He was but a Foole That brought my answer back. Brutus hath riu'd my hart: A Friend should beare his Friends infirmities; But Brutus makes mine greater then they are

Bru. I do not, till you practice them on me

Cassi. You loue me not

Bru. I do not like your faults

Cassi. A friendly eye could neuer see such faults

Bru. A Flatterers would not, though they do appeare As huge as high Olympus

Cassi. Come Antony, and yong Octauius come, Reuenge your selues alone on Cassius, For Cassius is a-weary of the World: Hated by one he loues, brau'd by his Brother, Check'd like a bondman, all his faults obseru'd, Set in a Note-booke, learn'd, and con'd by roate To cast into my Teeth. O I could weepe My Spirit from mine eyes. There is my Dagger, And heere my naked Breast: Within, a Heart Deerer then Pluto's Mine, Richer then Gold: If that thou bee'st a Roman, take it foorth. I that deny'd thee Gold, will giue my Heart: Strike as thou did'st at Caesar: For I know, When thou did'st hate him worst, y loued'st him better Then euer thou loued'st Cassius

Bru. Sheath your Dagger: Be angry when you will, it shall haue scope: Do what you will, Dishonor, shall be Humour. O Cassius, you are yoaked with a Lambe That carries Anger, as the Flint beares fire, Who much inforced, shewes a hastie Sparke, And straite is cold agen

Cassi. Hath Cassius liu'd To be but Mirth and Laughter to his Brutus, When greefe and blood ill temper'd, vexeth him? Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill temper'd too

Cassi. Do you confesse so much? Giue me your hand

Bru. And my heart too

Cassi. O Brutus! Bru. What's the matter? Cassi. Haue not you loue enough to beare with me, When that rash humour which my Mother gaue me Makes me forgetfull

Bru. Yes Cassius, and from henceforth When you are ouer-earnest with your Brutus, Hee'l thinke your Mother chides, and leaue you so. Enter a Poet.

Poet. Let me go in to see the Generals, There is some grudge betweene 'em, 'tis not meete They be alone

Lucil. You shall not come to them

Poet. Nothing but death shall stay me

Cas. How now? What's the matter? Poet. For shame you Generals; what do you meane? Loue, and be Friends, as two such men should bee, For I haue seene more yeeres I'me sure then yee

Cas. Ha, ha, how vildely doth this Cynicke rime? Bru. Get you hence sirra: Sawcy Fellow, hence

Cas. Beare with him Brutus, 'tis his fashion

Brut. Ile know his humor, when he knowes his time: What should the Warres do with these Iigging Fooles? Companion, hence

Cas. Away, away be gone.

Exit Poet

Bru. Lucillius and Titinius bid the Commanders Prepare to lodge their Companies to night

Cas. And come your selues, & bring Messala with you Immediately to vs

Bru. Lucius, a bowle of Wine

Cas. I did not thinke you could haue bin so angry

Bru. O Cassius, I am sicke of many greefes

Cas. Of your Philosophy you make no vse, If you giue place to accidentall euils

Bru. No man beares sorrow better. Portia is dead

Cas. Ha? Portia? Bru. She is dead

Cas. How scap'd I killing, when I crost you so? O insupportable, and touching losse! Vpon what sicknesse? Bru. Impatient of my absence, And greefe, that yong Octauius with Mark Antony Haue made themselues so strong: For with her death That tydings came. With this she fell distract, And (her Attendants absent) swallow'd fire

Cas. And dy'd so? Bru. Euen so

Cas. O ye immortall Gods! Enter Boy with Wine, and Tapers.

Bru. Speak no more of her: Giue me a bowl of wine, In this I bury all vnkindnesse Cassius.

Drinkes

Cas. My heart is thirsty for that Noble pledge. Fill Lucius, till the Wine ore-swell the Cup: I cannot drinke too much of Brutus loue. Enter Titinius and Messala.

Brutus. Come in Titinius: Welcome good Messala: Now sit we close about this Taper heere, And call in question our necessities

Cass. Portia, art thou gone? Bru. No more I pray you. Messala, I haue heere receiued Letters, That yong Octauius, and Marke Antony Come downe vpon vs with a mighty power, Bending their Expedition toward Philippi

Mess. My selfe haue Letters of the selfe-same Tenure

Bru. With what Addition

Mess. That by proscription, and billes of Outlarie, Octauius, Antony, and Lepidus, Haue put to death, an hundred Senators

Bru. Therein our Letters do not well agree: Mine speake of seuenty Senators, that dy'de By their proscriptions, Cicero being one

Cassi. Cicero one? Messa. Cicero is dead, and by that order of proscription Had you your Letters from your wife, my Lord? Bru. No Messala

Messa. Nor nothing in your Letters writ of her? Bru. Nothing Messala

Messa. That me thinkes is strange

Bru. Why aske you? Heare you ought of her, in yours? Messa. No my Lord

Bru. Now as you are a Roman tell me true

Messa. Then like a Roman, beare the truth I tell, For certaine she is dead, and by strange manner

Bru. Why farewell Portia: We must die Messala: With meditating that she must dye once, I haue the patience to endure it now

Messa. Euen so great men, great losses shold indure

Cassi. I haue as much of this in Art as you, But yet my Nature could not beare it so

Bru. Well, to our worke aliue. What do you thinke Of marching to Philippi presently

Cassi. I do not thinke it good

Bru. Your reason? Cassi. This it is: 'Tis better that the Enemie seeke vs, So shall he waste his meanes, weary his Souldiers, Doing himselfe offence, whil'st we lying still, Are full of rest, defence, and nimblenesse

Bru. Good reasons must of force giue place to better: The people 'twixt Philippi, and this ground Do stand but in a forc'd affection: For they haue grug'd vs Contribution. The Enemy, marching along by them, By them shall make a fuller number vp, Come on refresht, new added, and encourag'd: From which aduantage shall we cut him off. If at Philippi we do face him there, These people at our backe

Cassi. Heare me good Brother

Bru. Vnder your pardon. You must note beside, That we haue tride the vtmost of our Friends: Our Legions are brim full, our cause is ripe, The Enemy encreaseth euery day, We at the height, are readie to decline. There is a Tide in the affayres of men, Which taken at the Flood, leades on to Fortune: Omitted, all the voyage of their life, Is bound in Shallowes, and in Miseries. On such a full Sea are we now a-float, And we must take the current when it serues, Or loose our Ventures

Cassi. Then with your will go on: wee'l along Our selues, and meet them at Philippi

Bru. The deepe of night is crept vpon our talke, And Nature must obey Necessitie, Which we will niggard with a little rest: There is no more to say

Cassi. No more, good night, Early to morrow will we rise, and hence. Enter Lucius.

Bru. Lucius my Gowne: farewell good Messala, Good night Titinius: Noble, Noble Cassius, Good night, and good repose

Cassi. O my deere Brother: This was an ill beginning of the night: Neuer come such diuision 'tweene our soules: Let it not Brutus. Enter Lucius with the Gowne.

Bru. Euery thing is well

Cassi. Good night my Lord

Bru. Good night good Brother

Tit. Messa. Good night Lord Brutus

Bru. Farwell euery one.

Exeunt.

Giue me the Gowne. Where is thy Instrument? Luc. Heere in the Tent

Bru. What, thou speak'st drowsily? Poore knaue I blame thee not, thou art ore-watch'd. Call Claudio, and some other of my men, Ile haue them sleepe on Cushions in my Tent

Luc. Varrus, and Claudio. Enter Varrus and Claudio.

Var. Cals my Lord? Bru. I pray you sirs, lye in my Tent and sleepe, It may be I shall raise you by and by On businesse to my Brother Cassius

Var. So please you, we will stand, And watch your pleasure

Bru. I will it not haue it so: Lye downe good sirs, It may be I shall otherwise bethinke me. Looke Lucius, heere's the booke I sought for so: I put it in the pocket of my Gowne

Luc. I was sure your Lordship did not giue it me

Bru. Beare with me good Boy, I am much forgetfull. Canst thou hold vp thy heauie eyes a-while, And touch thy Instrument a straine or two

Luc. I my Lord, an't please you

Bru. It does my Boy: I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing

Luc. It is my duty Sir

Brut. I should not vrge thy duty past thy might, I know yong bloods looke for a time of rest

Luc. I haue slept my Lord already

Bru. It was well done, and thou shalt sleepe againe: I will not hold thee long. If I do liue, I will be good to thee.

Musicke, and a Song.

This is a sleepy Tune: O Murd'rous slumber! Layest thou thy Leaden Mace vpon my Boy, That playes thee Musicke? Gentle knaue good night: I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee: If thou do'st nod, thou break'st thy Instrument, Ile take it from thee, and (good Boy) good night. Let me see, let me see; is not the Leafe turn'd downe Where I left reading? Heere it is I thinke. Enter the Ghost of Caesar.

How ill this Taper burnes. Ha! Who comes heere? I thinke it is the weakenesse of mine eyes That shapes this monstrous Apparition. It comes vpon me: Art thou any thing? Art thou some God, some Angell, or some Diuell, That mak'st my blood cold, and my haire to stare? Speake to me, what thou art

Ghost. Thy euill Spirit Brutus? Bru. Why com'st thou? Ghost. To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi

Brut. Well: then I shall see thee againe? Ghost. I, at Philippi

Brut. Why I will see thee at Philippi then: Now I haue taken heart, thou vanishest. Ill Spirit, I would hold more talke with thee. Boy, Lucius, Varrus, Claudio, Sirs: Awake: Claudio

Luc. The strings my Lord, are false

Bru. He thinkes he still is at his Instrument. Lucius, awake

Luc. My Lord

Bru. Did'st thou dreame Lucius, that thou so cryedst out? Luc. My Lord, I do not know that I did cry

Bru. Yes that thou did'st: Did'st thou see any thing? Luc. Nothing my Lord

Bru. Sleepe againe Lucius: Sirra Claudio, Fellow, Thou: Awake

Var. My Lord

Clau. My Lord

Bru. Why did you so cry out sirs, in your sleepe? Both. Did we my Lord? Bru. I: saw you any thing? Var. No my Lord, I saw nothing

Clau. Nor I my Lord

Bru. Go, and commend me to my Brother Cassius: Bid him set on his Powres betimes before, And we will follow

Both. It shall be done my Lord.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Octauius, Antony, and their Army.

Octa. Now Antony, our hopes are answered, You said the Enemy would not come downe, But keepe the Hilles and vpper Regions: It proues not so: their battailes are at hand, They meane to warne vs at Philippi heere: Answering before we do demand of them

Ant. Tut I am in their bosomes, and I know Wherefore they do it: They could be content To visit other places, and come downe With fearefull brauery: thinking by this face To fasten in our thoughts that they haue Courage; But 'tis not so. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Prepare you Generals, The Enemy comes on in gallant shew: Their bloody signe of Battell is hung out, And something to be done immediately

Ant. Octauius, leade your Battaile softly on Vpon the left hand of the euen Field

Octa. Vpon the right hand I, keepe thou the left

Ant. Why do you crosse me in this exigent

Octa. I do not crosse you: but I will do so.

March.

Drum. Enter Brutus, Cassius, & their Army.

Bru. They stand, and would haue parley

Cassi. Stand fast Titinius, we must out and talke

Octa. Mark Antony, shall we giue signe of Battaile? Ant. No Caesar, we will answer on their Charge. Make forth, the Generals would haue some words

Oct. Stirre not vntill the Signall

Bru. Words before blowes: is it so Countrymen? Octa. Not that we loue words better, as you do

Bru. Good words are better then bad strokes Octauius

An. In your bad strokes Brutus, you giue good words Witnesse the hole you made in Caesars heart, Crying long liue, Haile Caesar

Cassi. Antony, The posture of your blowes are yet vnknowne; But for your words, they rob the Hibla Bees, And leaue them Hony-lesse

Ant. Not stinglesse too

Bru. O yes, and soundlesse too: For you haue stolne their buzzing Antony, And very wisely threat before you sting

Ant. Villains: you did not so, when your vile daggers Hackt one another in the sides of Caesar: You shew'd your teethes like Apes, And fawn'd like Hounds, And bow'd like Bondmen, kissing Caesars feete; Whil'st damned Caska, like a Curre, behinde Strooke Caesar on the necke. O you Flatterers

Cassi. Flatterers? Now Brutus thanke your selfe, This tongue had not offended so to day. If Cassius might haue rul'd

Octa. Come, come, the cause. If arguing make vs swet, The proofe of it will turne to redder drops: Looke, I draw a Sword against Conspirators, When thinke you that the Sword goes vp againe? Neuer till Caesars three and thirtie wounds Be well aueng'd; or till another Caesar Haue added slaughter to the Sword of Traitors

Brut. Caesar, thou canst not dye by Traitors hands. Vnlesse thou bring'st them with thee

Octa. So I hope: I was not borne to dye on Brutus Sword

Bru. O if thou wer't the Noblest of thy Straine, Yong-man, thou could'st not dye more honourable

Cassi. A peeuish School-boy, worthles of such Honor Ioyn'd with a Masker, and a Reueller

Ant. Old Cassius still

Octa. Come Antony: away: Defiance Traitors, hurle we in your teeth. If you dare fight to day, come to the Field; If not, when you haue stomackes.

Exit Octauius, Antony, and Army

Cassi. Why now blow winde, swell Billow, And swimme Barke: The Storme is vp, and all is on the hazard

Bru. Ho Lucillius, hearke, a word with you.

Lucillius and Messala stand forth.

Luc. My Lord

Cassi. Messala

Messa. What sayes my Generall? Cassi. Messala, this is my Birth-day: at this very day Was Cassius borne. Giue me thy hand Messala: Be thou my witnesse, that against my will (As Pompey was) am I compell'd to set Vpon one Battell all our Liberties. You know, that I held Epicurus strong, And his Opinion: Now I change my minde, And partly credit things that do presage. Comming from Sardis, on our former Ensigne Two mighty Eagles fell, and there they pearch'd, Gorging and feeding from our Soldiers hands, Who to Philippi heere consorted vs: This Morning are they fled away, and gone, And in their steeds, do Rauens, Crowes, and Kites Fly ore our heads, and downward looke on vs As we were sickely prey; their shadowes seeme A Canopy most fatall, vnder which Our Army lies, ready to giue vp the Ghost

Messa. Beleeue not so

Cassi. I but beleeue it partly, For I am fresh of spirit, and resolu'd To meete all perils, very constantly

Bru. Euen so Lucillius

Cassi. Now most Noble Brutus, The Gods to day stand friendly, that we may Louers in peace, leade on our dayes to age. But since the affayres of men rests still incertaine, Let's reason with the worst that may befall. If we do lose this Battaile, then is this The very last time we shall speake together: What are you then determined to do? Bru. Euen by the rule of that Philosophy, By which I did blame Cato, for the death Which he did giue himselfe, I know not how: But I do finde it Cowardly, and vile, For feare of what might fall, so to preuent The time of life, arming my selfe with patience, To stay the prouidence of some high Powers, That gouerne vs below

Cassi. Then, if we loose this Battaile, You are contented to be led in Triumph Thorow the streets of Rome

Bru. No Cassius, no: Thinke not thou Noble Romane, That euer Brutus will go bound to Rome, He beares too great a minde. But this same day Must end that worke, the Ides of March begun. And whether we shall meete againe, I know not: Therefore our euerlasting farewell take: For euer, and for euer, farewell Cassius, If we do meete againe, why we shall smile; If not, why then this parting was well made

Cassi. For euer, and for euer, farewell Brutus: If we do meete againe, wee'l smile indeede; If not, 'tis true, this parting was well made

Bru. Why then leade on. O that a man might know The end of this dayes businesse, ere it come: But it sufficeth, that the day will end, And then the end is knowne. Come ho, away.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter Brutus and Messala.

Bru. Ride, ride Messala, ride and giue these Billes Vnto the Legions, on the other side.

Lowd Alarum.

Let them set on at once: for I perceiue But cold demeanor in Octauio's wing: And sodaine push giues them the ouerthrow: Ride, ride Messala, let them all come downe.

Exeunt.

Alarums. Enter Cassius and Titinius.

Cassi. O looke Titinius, looke, the Villaines flye: My selfe haue to mine owne turn'd Enemy: This Ensigne heere of mine was turning backe, I slew the Coward, and did take it from him

Titin. O Cassius, Brutus gaue the word too early, Who hauing some aduantage on Octauius, Tooke it too eagerly: his Soldiers fell to spoyle, Whilst we by Antony are all inclos'd. Enter Pindarus.

Pind. Fly further off my Lord: flye further off, Mark Antony is in your Tents my Lord: Flye therefore Noble Cassius, flye farre off

Cassi. This Hill is farre enough. Looke, look Titinius Are those my Tents where I perceiue the fire? Tit. They are, my Lord

Cassi. Titinius, if thou louest me, Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurres in him, Till he haue brought thee vp to yonder Troopes And heere againe, that I may rest assur'd Whether yond Troopes, are Friend or Enemy

Tit. I will be heere againe, euen with a thought. Enter.

Cassi. Go Pindarus, get higher on that hill, My sight was euer thicke: regard Titinius, And tell me what thou not'st about the Field. This day I breathed first, Time is come round, And where I did begin, there shall I end, My life is run his compasse. Sirra, what newes? Pind. Aboue. O my Lord

Cassi. What newes? Pind. Titinius is enclosed round about With Horsemen, that make to him on the Spurre, Yet he spurres on. Now they are almost on him: Now Titinius. Now some light: O he lights too. Hee's tane.

Showt.

And hearke, they shout for ioy

Cassi. Come downe, behold no more: O Coward that I am, to liue so long, To see my best Friend tane before my face Enter Pindarus.

Come hither sirrah: In Parthia did I take thee Prisoner, And then I swore thee, sauing of thy life, That whatsoeuer I did bid thee do, Thou should'st attempt it. Come now, keepe thine oath, Now be a Free-man, and with this good Sword That ran through Caesars bowels, search this bosome. Stand not to answer: Heere, take thou the Hilts, And when my face is couer'd, as 'tis now, Guide thou the Sword- Caesar, thou art reueng'd, Euen with the Sword that kill'd thee

Pin. So, I am free, Yet would not so haue beene Durst I haue done my will. O Cassius, Farre from this Country Pindarus shall run, Where neuer Roman shall take note of him. Enter Titinius and Messala.

Messa. It is but change, Titinius: for Octauius Is ouerthrowne by Noble Brutus power, As Cassius Legions are by Antony

Titin. These tydings will well comfort Cassius

Messa. Where did you leaue him

Titin. All disconsolate, With Pindarus his Bondman, on this Hill

Messa. Is not that he that lyes vpon the ground? Titin. He lies not like the Liuing. O my heart! Messa. Is not that hee? Titin. No, this was he Messala, But Cassius is no more. O setting Sunne: As in thy red Rayes thou doest sinke to night; So in his red blood Cassius day is set. The Sunne of Rome is set. Our day is gone, Clowds, Dewes, and Dangers come; our deeds are done: Mistrust of my successe hath done this deed

Messa. Mistrust of good successe hath done this deed. O hatefull Error, Melancholies Childe: Why do'st thou shew to the apt thoughts of men The things that are not? O Error soone conceyu'd, Thou neuer com'st vnto a happy byrth, But kil'st the Mother that engendred thee

Tit. What Pindarus? Where art thou Pindarus? Messa. Seeke him Titinius, whilst I go to meet The Noble Brutus, thrusting this report Into his eares; I may say thrusting it: For piercing Steele, and Darts inuenomed, Shall be as welcome to the eares of Brutus, As tydings of this sight

Tit. Hye you Messala, And I will seeke for Pindarus the while: Why did'st thou send me forth braue Cassius? Did I not meet thy Friends, and did not they Put on my Browes this wreath of Victorie, And bid me giue it thee? Did'st thou not heare their showts? Alas, thou hast misconstrued euery thing. But hold thee, take this Garland on thy Brow, Thy Brutus bid me giue it thee, and I Will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace, And see how I regarded Caius Cassius: By your leaue Gods: This is a Romans part, Come Cassius Sword, and finde Titinius hart.

Dies

Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, yong Cato, Strato, Volumnius, and Lucillius.

Bru. Where, where Messala, doth his body lye? Messa. Loe yonder, and Titinius mourning it

Bru. Titinius face is vpward

Cato. He is slaine

Bru. O Iulius Caesar, thou art mighty yet, Thy Spirit walkes abroad, and turnes our Swords In our owne proper Entrailes. Low Alarums

Cato. Braue Titinius, Looke where he haue not crown'd dead Cassius

Bru. Are yet two Romans liuing such as these? The last of all the Romans, far thee well: It is impossible, that euer Rome Should breed thy fellow. Friends I owe mo teares To this dead man, then you shall see me pay. I shall finde time, Cassius: I shall finde time. Come therefore, and to Tharsus send his body, His Funerals shall not be in our Campe, Least it discomfort vs. Lucillius come, And come yong Cato, let vs to the Field, Labio and Flauio set our Battailes on: 'Tis three a clocke, and Romans yet ere night, We shall try Fortune in a second fight.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, Cato, Lucillius, and Flauius.

Bru. Yet Country-men: O yet, hold vp your heads

Cato. What Bastard doth not? Who will go with me? I will proclaime my name about the Field. I am the Sonne of Marcus Cato, hoe. A Foe to Tyrants, and my Countries Friend. I am the Sonne of Marcus Cato, hoe. Enter Souldiers, and fight.

And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I, Brutus my Countries Friend: Know me for Brutus

Luc. O yong and Noble Cato, art thou downe? Why now thou dyest, as brauely as Titinius, And may'st be honour'd, being Cato's Sonne

Sold. Yeeld, or thou dyest

Luc. Onely I yeeld to dye: There is so much, that thou wilt kill me straight: Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death

Sold. We must not: a Noble Prisoner. Enter Antony.

2.Sold. Roome hoe: tell Antony, Brutus is tane

1.Sold. Ile tell thee newes. Heere comes the Generall, Brutus is tane, Brutus is tane my Lord

Ant. Where is hee? Luc. Safe Antony, Brutus is safe enough: I dare assure thee, that no Enemy Shall euer take aliue the Noble Brutus: The Gods defend him from so great a shame, When you do finde him, or aliue, or dead, He will be found like Brutus, like himselfe

Ant. This is not Brutus friend, but I assure you, A prize no lesse in worth; keepe this man safe, Giue him all kindnesse. I had rather haue Such men my Friends, then Enemies. Go on, And see where Brutus be aliue or dead, And bring vs word, vnto Octauius Tent: How euery thing is chanc'd.

Exeunt.

Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius.

Brut. Come poore remaines of friends, rest on this Rocke

Clit. Statillius shew'd the Torch-light, but my Lord He came not backe: he is or tane, or slaine

Brut. Sit thee downe, Clitus: slaying is the word, It is a deed in fashion. Hearke thee, Clitus

Clit. What I, my Lord? No, not for all the World

Brut. Peace then, no words

Clit. Ile rather kill my selfe

Brut. Hearke thee, Dardanius

Dard. Shall I doe such a deed? Clit. O Dardanius

Dard. O Clitus

Clit. What ill request did Brutus make to thee? Dard. To kill him, Clitus: looke he meditates

Clit. Now is that Noble Vessell full of griefe, That it runnes ouer euen at his eyes

Brut. Come hither, good Volumnius, list a word

Volum. What sayes my Lord? Brut. Why this, Volumnius: The Ghost of Caesar hath appear'd to me Two seuerall times by Night: at Sardis, once; And this last Night, here in Philippi fields: I know my houre is come

Volum. Not so, my Lord

Brut. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius. Thou seest the World, Volumnius, how it goes, Our Enemies haue beat vs to the Pit:

Low Alarums.

It is more worthy, to leape in our selues, Then tarry till they push vs. Good Volumnius, Thou know'st, that we two went to Schoole together: Euen for that our loue of old, I prethee Hold thou my Sword Hilts, whilest I runne on it

Vol. That's not an Office for a friend, my Lord.

Alarum still.

Cly. Fly, flye my Lord, there is no tarrying heere

Bru. Farewell to you, and you, and Volumnius. Strato, thou hast bin all this while asleepe: Farewell to thee, to Strato, Countrymen: My heart doth ioy, that yet in all my life, I found no man, but he was true to me. I shall haue glory by this loosing day More then Octauius, and Marke Antony, By this vile Conquest shall attaine vnto. So fare you well at once, for Brutus tongue Hath almost ended his liues History: Night hangs vpon mine eyes, my Bones would rest, That haue but labour'd, to attaine this houre.

Alarum. Cry within, Flye, flye, flye.

Cly. Fly my Lord, flye

Bru. Hence: I will follow: I prythee Strato, stay thou by thy Lord, Thou art a Fellow of a good respect: Thy life hath had some smatch of Honor in it, Hold then my Sword, and turne away thy face, While I do run vpon it. Wilt thou Strato? Stra. Giue me your hand first. Fare you wel my Lord

Bru. Farewell good Strato. - Caesar, now be still, I kill'd not thee with halfe so good a will. Dyes.

Alarum. Retreat. Enter Antony, Octauius, Messala, Lucillius, and the Army.

Octa. What man is that? Messa. My Masters man. Strato, where is thy Master? Stra. Free from the Bondage you are in Messala, The Conquerors can but make a fire of him: For Brutus onely ouercame himselfe, And no man else hath Honor by his death

Lucil. So Brutus should be found. I thank thee Brutus That thou hast prou'd Lucillius saying true, Octa. All that seru'd Brutus, I will entertaine them. Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me? Stra. I, if Messala will preferre me to you

Octa. Do so, good Messala

Messa. How dyed my Master Strato? Stra. I held the Sword, and he did run on it

Messa. Octauius, then take him to follow thee, That did the latest seruice to my Master

Ant. This was the Noblest Roman of them all: All the Conspirators saue onely hee, Did that they did, in enuy of great Caesar: He, onely in a generall honest thought, And common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle, and the Elements So mixt in him, that Nature might stand vp, And say to all the world; This was a man

Octa. According to his Vertue, let vs vse him Withall Respect, and Rites of Buriall. Within my Tent his bones to night shall ly, Most like a Souldier ordered Honourably: So call the Field to rest, and let's away, To part the glories of this happy day.

Exeunt. omnes.

FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF IVLIVS CaeSAR.

The Tragedie of Macbeth

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Thunder and Lightning. Enter three Witches.

1. When shall we three meet againe? In Thunder, Lightning, or in Raine? 2. When the Hurley-burley's done, When the Battaile's lost, and wonne

3. That will be ere the set of Sunne

1. Where the place? 2. Vpon the Heath

3. There to meet with Macbeth

1. I come, Gray-Malkin

All. Padock calls anon: faire is foule, and foule is faire, Houer through the fogge and filthie ayre.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Alarum within. Enter King Malcome, Donalbaine, Lenox, with attendants, meeting a bleeding Captaine.

King. What bloody man is that? he can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the Reuolt The newest state

Mal. This is the Serieant, Who like a good and hardie Souldier fought 'Gainst my Captiuitie: Haile braue friend; Say to the King, the knowledge of the Broyle, As thou didst leaue it

Cap. Doubtfull it stood, As two spent Swimmers, that doe cling together, And choake their Art: The mercilesse Macdonwald (Worthie to be a Rebell, for to that The multiplying Villanies of Nature Doe swarme vpon him) from the Westerne Isles Of Kernes and Gallowgrosses is supply'd, And Fortune on his damned Quarry smiling, Shew'd like a Rebells Whore: but all's too weake: For braue Macbeth (well hee deserues that Name) Disdayning Fortune, with his brandisht Steele, Which smoak'd with bloody execution (Like Valours Minion) caru'd out his passage, Till hee fac'd the Slaue: Which neu'r shooke hands, nor bad farwell to him, Till he vnseam'd him from the Naue toth' Chops, And fix'd his Head vpon our Battlements

King. O valiant Cousin, worthy Gentleman

Cap. As whence the Sunne 'gins his reflection, Shipwracking Stormes, and direfull Thunders: So from that Spring, whence comfort seem'd to come, Discomfort swells: Marke King of Scotland, marke, No sooner Iustice had, with Valour arm'd, Compell'd these skipping Kernes to trust their heeles, But the Norweyan Lord, surueying vantage, With furbusht Armes, and new supplyes of men, Began a fresh assault

King. Dismay'd not this our Captaines, Macbeth and Banquoh? Cap. Yes, as Sparrowes, Eagles; Or the Hare, the Lyon: If I say sooth, I must report they were As Cannons ouer-charg'd with double Cracks, So they doubly redoubled stroakes vpon the Foe: Except they meant to bathe in reeking Wounds, Or memorize another Golgotha, I cannot tell: but I am faint, My Gashes cry for helpe

King. So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds, They smack of Honor both: Goe get him Surgeons. Enter Rosse and Angus.

Who comes here? Mal. The worthy Thane of Rosse

Lenox. What a haste lookes through his eyes? So should he looke, that seemes to speake things strange

Rosse. God saue the King

King. Whence cam'st thou, worthy Thane? Rosse. From Fiffe, great King, Where the Norweyan Banners flowt the Skie, And fanne our people cold. Norway himselfe, with terrible numbers, Assisted by that most disloyall Traytor, The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismall Conflict, Till that Bellona's Bridegroome, lapt in proofe, Confronted him with selfe-comparisons, Point against Point, rebellious Arme 'gainst Arme, Curbing his lauish spirit: and to conclude, The Victorie fell on vs

King. Great happinesse

Rosse. That now Sweno, the Norwayes King, Craues composition: Nor would we deigne him buriall of his men, Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes ynch, Ten thousand Dollars, to our generall vse

King. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceiue Our Bosome interest: Goe pronounce his present death, And with his former Title greet Macbeth

Rosse. Ile see it done

King. What he hath lost, Noble Macbeth hath wonne.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

1. Where hast thou beene, Sister? 2. Killing Swine

3. Sister, where thou? 1. A Saylors Wife had Chestnuts in her Lappe, And mouncht, & mouncht, and mouncht: Giue me, quoth I. Aroynt thee, Witch, the rumpe-fed Ronyon cryes. Her Husband's to Aleppo gone, Master o'th' Tiger: But in a Syue Ile thither sayle, And like a Rat without a tayle, Ile doe, Ile doe, and Ile doe

2. Ile giue thee a Winde

1. Th'art kinde

3. And I another

1. I my selfe haue all the other, And the very Ports they blow, All the Quarters that they know, I'th' Ship-mans Card. Ile dreyne him drie as Hay: Sleepe shall neyther Night nor Day Hang vpon his Pent-house Lid: He shall liue a man forbid: Wearie Seu'nights, nine times nine, Shall he dwindle, peake, and pine: Though his Barke cannot be lost, Yet it shall be Tempest-tost. Looke what I haue

2. Shew me, shew me

1. Here I haue a Pilots Thumbe, Wrackt, as homeward he did come.

Drum within.

3. A Drumme, a Drumme: Macbeth doth come

All. The weyward Sisters, hand in hand, Posters of the Sea and Land, Thus doe goe, about, about, Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine, And thrice againe, to make vp nine. Peace, the Charme's wound vp. Enter Macbeth and Banquo.

Macb. So foule and faire a day I haue not seene

Banquo. How farre is't call'd to Soris? What are these, So wither'd, and so wilde in their attyre, That looke not like th' Inhabitants o'th' Earth, And yet are on't? Liue you, or are you aught That man may question? you seeme to vnderstand me, By each at once her choppie finger laying Vpon her skinnie Lips: you should be Women, And yet your Beards forbid me to interprete That you are so

Mac. Speake if you can: what are you? 1. All haile Macbeth, haile to thee Thane of Glamis

2. All haile Macbeth, haile to thee Thane of Cawdor

3. All haile Macbeth, that shalt be King hereafter

Banq. Good Sir, why doe you start, and seeme to feare Things that doe sound so faire? i'th' name of truth Are ye fantasticall, or that indeed Which outwardly ye shew? My Noble Partner You greet with present Grace, and great prediction Of Noble hauing, and of Royall hope, That he seemes wrapt withall: to me you speake not. If you can looke into the Seedes of Time, And say, which Graine will grow, and which will not, Speake then to me, who neyther begge, nor feare Your fauors, nor your hate

1. Hayle

2. Hayle

3. Hayle

1. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater

2. Not so happy, yet much happyer

3. Thou shalt get Kings, though thou be none: So all haile Macbeth, and Banquo

1. Banquo, and Macbeth, all haile

Macb. Stay you imperfect Speakers, tell me more: By Sinells death, I know I am Thane of Glamis, But how, of Cawdor? the Thane of Cawdor liues A prosperous Gentleman: And to be King, Stands not within the prospect of beleefe, No more then to be Cawdor. Say from whence You owe this strange Intelligence, or why Vpon this blasted Heath you stop our way With such Prophetique greeting? Speake, I charge you.

Witches vanish.

Banq. The Earth hath bubbles, as the Water ha's, And these are of them: whither are they vanish'd? Macb. Into the Ayre: and what seem'd corporall, Melted, as breath into the Winde. Would they had stay'd

Banq. Were such things here, as we doe speake about? Or haue we eaten on the insane Root, That takes the Reason Prisoner? Macb. Your Children shall be Kings

Banq. You shall be King

Macb. And Thane of Cawdor too: went it not so? Banq. Toth' selfe-same tune and words: who's here? Enter Rosse and Angus.

Rosse. The King hath happily receiu'd, Macbeth, The newes of thy successe: and when he reades Thy personall Venture in the Rebels sight, His Wonders and his Prayses doe contend, Which should be thine, or his: silenc'd with that, In viewing o're the rest o'th' selfe-same day, He findes thee in the stout Norweyan Rankes, Nothing afeard of what thy selfe didst make Strange Images of death, as thick as Tale Can post with post, and euery one did beare Thy prayses in his Kingdomes great defence, And powr'd them downe before him

Ang. Wee are sent, To giue thee from our Royall Master thanks, Onely to harrold thee into his sight, Not pay thee

Rosse. And for an earnest of a greater Honor, He bad me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor: In which addition, haile most worthy Thane, For it is thine

Banq. What, can the Deuill speake true? Macb. The Thane of Cawdor liues: Why doe you dresse me in borrowed Robes? Ang. Who was the Thane, liues yet, But vnder heauie Iudgement beares that Life, Which he deserues to loose. Whether he was combin'd with those of Norway, Or did lyne the Rebell with hidden helpe, And vantage; or that with both he labour'd In his Countreyes wracke, I know not: But Treasons Capitall, confess'd, and prou'd, Haue ouerthrowne him

Macb. Glamys, and Thane of Cawdor: The greatest is behinde. Thankes for your paines. Doe you not hope your Children shall be Kings, When those that gaue the Thane of Cawdor to me, Promis'd no lesse to them

Banq. That trusted home, Might yet enkindle you vnto the Crowne, Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange: And oftentimes, to winne vs to our harme, The Instruments of Darknesse tell vs Truths, Winne vs with honest Trifles, to betray's In deepest consequence. Cousins, a word, I pray you

Macb. Two Truths are told, As happy Prologues to the swelling Act Of the Imperiall Theame. I thanke you Gentlemen: This supernaturall solliciting Cannot be ill; cannot be good. If ill? why hath it giuen me earnest of successe, Commencing in a Truth? I am Thane of Cawdor. If good? why doe I yeeld to that suggestion, Whose horrid Image doth vnfixe my Heire, And make my seated Heart knock at my Ribbes, Against the vse of Nature? Present Feares Are lesse then horrible Imaginings: My Thought, whose Murther yet is but fantasticall, Shakes so my single state of Man, That Function is smother'd in surmise, And nothing is, but what is not

Banq. Looke how our Partner's rapt

Macb. If Chance will haue me King, Why Chance may Crowne me, Without my stirre

Banq. New Honors come vpon him Like our strange Garments, cleaue not to their mould, But with the aid of vse

Macb. Come what come may, Time, and the Houre, runs through the roughest Day

Banq. Worthy Macbeth, wee stay vpon your leysure

Macb. Giue me your fauour: My dull Braine was wrought with things forgotten. Kinde Gentlemen, your paines are registred, Where euery day I turne the Leafe, To reade them. Let vs toward the King: thinke vpon What hath chanc'd: and at more time, The Interim hauing weigh'd it, let vs speake Our free Hearts each to other

Banq. Very gladly

Macb. Till then enough: Come friends.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Flourish. Enter King, Lenox, Malcolme, Donalbaine, and Attendants.

King. Is execution done on Cawdor? Or not those in Commission yet return'd? Mal. My Liege, they are not yet come back. But I haue spoke with one that saw him die: Who did report, that very frankly hee Confess'd his Treasons, implor'd your Highnesse Pardon, And set forth a deepe Repentance: Nothing in his Life became him, Like the leauing it. Hee dy'de, As one that had beene studied in his death, To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd, As 'twere a carelesse Trifle

King. There's no Art, To finde the Mindes construction in the Face. He was a Gentleman, on whom I built An absolute Trust. Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus.

O worthyest Cousin, The sinne of my Ingratitude euen now Was heauie on me. Thou art so farre before, That swiftest Wing of Recompence is slow, To ouertake thee. Would thou hadst lesse deseru'd, That the proportion both of thanks, and payment, Might haue beene mine: onely I haue left to say, More is thy due, then more then all can pay

Macb. The seruice, and the loyaltie I owe, In doing it, payes it selfe. Your Highnesse part, is to receiue our Duties: And our Duties are to your Throne, and State, Children, and Seruants; which doe but what they should, By doing euery thing safe toward your Loue And Honor

King. Welcome hither: I haue begun to plant thee, and will labour To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo, That hast no lesse deseru'd, nor must be knowne No lesse to haue done so: Let me enfold thee, And hold thee to my Heart

Banq. There if I grow, The Haruest is your owne

King. My plenteous Ioyes, Wanton in fulnesse, seeke to hide themselues In drops of sorrow. Sonnes, Kinsmen, Thanes, And you whose places are the nearest, know, We will establish our Estate vpon Our eldest, Malcolme, whom we name hereafter, The Prince of Cumberland: which Honor must Not vnaccompanied, inuest him onely, But signes of Noblenesse, like Starres, shall shine On all deseruers. From hence to Envernes, And binde vs further to you

Macb. The Rest is Labor, which is not vs'd for you: Ile be my selfe the Herbenger, and make ioyfull The hearing of my Wife, with your approach: So humbly take my leaue

King. My worthy Cawdor

Macb. The Prince of Cumberland: that is a step, On which I must fall downe, or else o're-leape, For in my way it lyes. Starres hide your fires, Let not Light see my black and deepe desires: The Eye winke at the Hand: yet let that bee, Which the Eye feares, when it is done to see. Enter.

King. True worthy Banquo: he is full so valiant, And in his commendations, I am fed: It is a Banquet to me. Let's after him, Whose care is gone before, to bid vs welcome: It is a peerelesse Kinsman.

Flourish. Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter Macbeths Wife alone with a Letter.

Lady. They met me in the day of successe: and I haue learn'd by the perfect'st report, they haue more in them, then mortall knowledge. When I burnt in desire to question them further, they made themselues Ayre, into which they vanish'd. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came Missiues from the King, who all-hail'd me Thane of Cawdor, by which Title before, these weyward Sisters saluted me, and referr'd me to the comming on of time, with haile King that shalt be. This haue I thought good to deliuer thee (my dearest Partner of Greatnesse) that thou might'st not loose the dues of reioycing by being ignorant of what Greatnesse is promis'd thee. Lay it to thy heart and farewell. Glamys thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be What thou art promis'd: yet doe I feare thy Nature, It is too full o'th' Milke of humane kindnesse, To catch the neerest way. Thou would'st be great, Art not without Ambition, but without The illnesse should attend it. What thou would'st highly, That would'st thou holily: would'st not play false, And yet would'st wrongly winne. Thould'st haue, great Glamys, that which cryes, Thus thou must doe, if thou haue it; And that which rather thou do'st feare to doe, Then wishest should be vndone. High thee hither, That I may powre my Spirits in thine Eare, And chastise with the valour of my Tongue All that impeides thee from the Golden Round, Which Fate and Metaphysicall ayde doth seeme To haue thee crown'd withall. Enter Messenger.

What is your tidings? Mess. The King comes here to Night

Lady. Thou'rt mad to say it. Is not thy Master with him? who, wer't so, Would haue inform'd for preparation

Mess. So please you, it is true: our Thane is comming: One of my fellowes had the speed of him; Who almost dead for breath, had scarcely more Then would make vp his Message

Lady. Giue him tending, He brings great newes,

Exit Messenger.

The Rauen himselfe is hoarse, That croakes the fatall entrance of Duncan Vnder my Battlements. Come you Spirits, That tend on mortall thoughts, vnsex me here, And fill me from the Crowne to the Toe, top-full Of direst Crueltie: make thick my blood, Stop vp th' accesse, and passage to Remorse, That no compunctious visitings of Nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keepe peace betweene Th' effect, and hit. Come to my Womans Brests, And take my Milke for Gall, you murth'ring Ministers, Where-euer, in your sightlesse substances, You wait on Natures Mischiefe. Come thick Night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoake of Hell, That my keene Knife see not the Wound it makes, Nor Heauen peepe through the Blanket of the darke, To cry, hold, hold. Enter Macbeth.

Great Glamys, worthy Cawdor, Greater then both, by the all-haile hereafter, Thy Letters haue transported me beyond This ignorant present, and I feele now The future in the instant

Macb. My dearest Loue, Duncan comes here to Night

Lady. And when goes hence? Macb. To morrow, as he purposes

Lady. O neuer, Shall Sunne that Morrow see. Your Face, my Thane, is as a Booke, where men May reade strange matters, to beguile the time. Looke like the time, beare welcome in your Eye, Your Hand, your Tongue: looke like th' innocent flower, But be the Serpent vnder't. He that's comming, Must be prouided for: and you shall put This Nights great Businesse into my dispatch, Which shall to all our Nights, and Dayes to come, Giue solely soueraigne sway, and Masterdome

Macb. We will speake further, Lady. Onely looke vp cleare: To alter fauor, euer is to feare: Leaue all the rest to me.

Exeunt.

Scena Sexta.

Hoboyes, and Torches. Enter King, Malcolme, Donalbaine, Banquo, Lenox, Macduff, Rosse, Angus, and Attendants.

King. This Castle hath a pleasant seat, The ayre nimbly and sweetly recommends it selfe Vnto our gentle sences

Banq. This Guest of Summer, The Temple-haunting Barlet does approue, By his loued Mansonry, that the Heauens breath Smells wooingly here: no Iutty frieze, Buttrice, nor Coigne of Vantage, but this Bird Hath made his pendant Bed, and procreant Cradle, Where they must breed, and haunt: I haue obseru'd The ayre is delicate. Enter Lady.

King. See, see our honor'd Hostesse: The Loue that followes vs, sometime is our trouble, Which still we thanke as Loue. Herein I teach you, How you shall bid God-eyld vs for your paines, And thanke vs for your trouble

Lady. All our seruice, In euery point twice done, and then done double, Were poore, and single Businesse, to contend Against those Honors deepe, and broad, Wherewith your Maiestie loades our House: For those of old, and the late Dignities, Heap'd vp to them, we rest your Ermites

King. Where's the Thane of Cawdor? We courst him at the heeles, and had a purpose To be his Purueyor: But he rides well, And his great Loue (sharpe as his Spurre) hath holp him To his home before vs: Faire and Noble Hostesse We are your guest to night

La. Your Seruants euer, Haue theirs, themselues, and what is theirs in compt, To make their Audit at your Highnesse pleasure, Still to returne your owne

King. Giue me your hand: Conduct me to mine Host we loue him highly, And shall continue, our Graces towards him. By your leaue Hostesse.

Exeunt.

Scena Septima.

Hoboyes. Torches. Enter a Sewer, and diuers Seruants with Dishes and Seruice ouer the Stage. Then enter Macbeth

Macb. If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twer well, It were done quickly: If th' Assassination Could trammell vp the Consequence, and catch With his surcease, Successe: that but this blow Might be the be all, and the end all. Heere, But heere, vpon this Banke and Schoole of time, Wee'ld iumpe the life to come. But in these Cases, We still haue iudgement heere, that we but teach Bloody Instructions, which being taught, returne To plague th' Inuenter, this euen-handed Iustice Commends th' Ingredience of our poyson'd Challice To our owne lips. Hee's heere in double trust; First, as I am his Kinsman, and his Subiect, Strong both against the Deed: Then, as his Host, Who should against his Murtherer shut the doore, Not beare the knife my selfe. Besides, this Duncane Hath borne his Faculties so meeke; hath bin So cleere in his great Office, that his Vertues Will pleade like Angels, Trumpet-tongu'd against The deepe damnation of his taking off: And Pitty, like a naked New-borne-Babe, Striding the blast, or Heauens Cherubin, hors'd Vpon the sightlesse Curriors of the Ayre, Shall blow the horrid deed in euery eye, That teares shall drowne the winde. I haue no Spurre To pricke the sides of my intent, but onely Vaulting Ambition, which ore-leapes it selfe, And falles on th' other. Enter Lady.

How now? What Newes? La. He has almost supt: why haue you left the chamber? Mac. Hath he ask'd for me? La. Know you not, he ha's? Mac. We will proceed no further in this Businesse: He hath Honour'd me of late, and I haue bought Golden Opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worne now in their newest glosse, Not cast aside so soone

La. Was the hope drunke, Wherein you drest your selfe? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now to looke so greene, and pale, At what it did so freely? From this time, Such I account thy loue. Art thou affear'd To be the same in thine owne Act, and Valour, As thou art in desire? Would'st thou haue that Which thou esteem'st the Ornament of Life, And liue a Coward in thine owne Esteeme? Letting I dare not, wait vpon I would, Like the poore Cat i'th' Addage

Macb. Prythee peace: I dare do all that may become a man, Who dares do more, is none

La. What Beast was't then That made you breake this enterprize to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man: And to be more then what you were, you would Be so much more the man. Nor time, nor place Did then adhere, and yet you would make both: They haue made themselues, and that their fitnesse now Do's vnmake you. I haue giuen Sucke, and know How tender 'tis to loue the Babe that milkes me, I would, while it was smyling in my Face, Haue pluckt my Nipple from his Bonelesse Gummes, And dasht the Braines out, had I so sworne As you haue done to this

Macb. If we should faile? Lady. We faile? But screw your courage to the sticking place, And wee'le not fayle: when Duncan is asleepe, (Whereto the rather shall his dayes hard Iourney Soundly inuite him) his two Chamberlaines Will I with Wine, and Wassell, so conuince, That Memorie, the Warder of the Braine, Shall be a Fume, and the Receit of Reason A Lymbeck onely: when in Swinish sleepe, Their drenched Natures lyes as in a Death, What cannot you and I performe vpon Th' vnguarded Duncan? What not put vpon His spungie Officers? who shall beare the guilt Of our great quell

Macb. Bring forth Men-Children onely: For thy vndaunted Mettle should compose Nothing but Males. Will it not be receiu'd, When we haue mark'd with blood those sleepie two Of his owne Chamber, and vs'd their very Daggers, That they haue don't? Lady. Who dares receiue it other, As we shall make our Griefes and Clamor rore, Vpon his Death? Macb. I am settled, and bend vp Each corporall Agent to this terrible Feat. Away, and mock the time with fairest show, False Face must hide what the false Heart doth know.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Banquo, and Fleance, with a Torch before him.

Banq. How goes the Night, Boy? Fleance. The Moone is downe: I haue not heard the Clock

Banq. And she goes downe at Twelue

Fleance. I take't, 'tis later, Sir

Banq. Hold, take my Sword: There's Husbandry in Heauen, Their Candles are all out: take thee that too. A heauie Summons lyes like Lead vpon me, And yet I would not sleepe: Mercifull Powers, restraine in me the cursed thoughts That Nature giues way to in repose. Enter Macbeth, and a Seruant with a Torch.

Giue me my Sword: who's there? Macb. A Friend

Banq. What Sir, not yet at rest? the King's a bed. He hath beene in vnusuall Pleasure, And sent forth great Largesse to your Offices. This Diamond he greetes your Wife withall, By the name of most kind Hostesse, And shut vp in measurelesse content

Mac. Being vnprepar'd, Our will became the seruant to defect, Which else should free haue wrought

Banq. All's well. I dreamt last Night of the three weyward Sisters: To you they haue shew'd some truth

Macb. I thinke not of them: Yet when we can entreat an houre to serue, We would spend it in some words vpon that Businesse, If you would graunt the time

Banq. At your kind'st leysure

Macb. If you shall cleaue to my consent, When 'tis, it shall make Honor for you

Banq. So I lose none, In seeking to augment it, but still keepe My Bosome franchis'd, and Allegeance cleare, I shall be counsail'd

Macb. Good repose the while

Banq. Thankes Sir: the like to you.

Exit Banquo.

Macb. Goe bid thy Mistresse, when my drinke is ready, She strike vpon the Bell. Get thee to bed. Enter.

Is this a Dagger, which I see before me, The Handle toward my Hand? Come, let me clutch thee: I haue thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not fatall Vision, sensible To feeling, as to sight? or art thou but A Dagger of the Minde, a false Creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed Braine? I see thee yet, in forme as palpable, As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going, And such an Instrument I was to vse. Mine Eyes are made the fooles o'th' other Sences, Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still; And on thy Blade, and Dudgeon, Gouts of Blood, Which was not so before. There's no such thing: It is the bloody Businesse, which informes Thus to mine Eyes. Now o're the one halfe World Nature seemes dead, and wicked Dreames abuse The Curtain'd sleepe: Witchcraft celebrates Pale Heccats Offrings: and wither'd Murther, Alarum'd by his Centinell, the Wolfe, Whose howle's his Watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquins rauishing sides, towards his designe Moues like a Ghost. Thou sowre and firme-set Earth Heare not my steps, which they may walke, for feare Thy very stones prate of my where-about, And take the present horror from the time, Which now sutes with it. Whiles I threat, he liues: Words to the heat of deedes too cold breath giues.

A Bell rings.

I goe, and it is done: the Bell inuites me. Heare it not, Duncan, for it is a Knell, That summons thee to Heauen, or to Hell. Enter.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Lady.

La. That which hath made the[m] drunk, hath made me bold: What hath quench'd them, hath giuen me fire. Hearke, peace: it was the Owle that shriek'd, The fatall Bell-man, which giues the stern'st good-night. He is about it, the Doores are open: And the surfeted Groomes doe mock their charge With Snores. I haue drugg'd their Possets, That Death and Nature doe contend about them, Whether they liue, or dye. Enter Macbeth.

Macb. Who's there? what hoa? Lady. Alack, I am afraid they haue awak'd, And 'tis not done: th' attempt, and not the deed, Confounds vs: hearke: I lay'd their Daggers ready, He could not misse 'em. Had he not resembled My Father as he slept, I had don't. My Husband? Macb. I haue done the deed: Didst thou not heare a noyse? Lady. I heard the Owle schreame, and the Crickets cry. Did not you speake? Macb. When? Lady. Now

Macb. As I descended? Lady. I

Macb. Hearke, who lyes i'th' second Chamber? Lady. Donalbaine

Mac. This is a sorry sight

Lady. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight

Macb. There's one did laugh in's sleepe, And one cry'd Murther, that they did wake each other: I stood, and heard them: But they did say their Prayers, And addrest them againe to sleepe

Lady. There are two lodg'd together

Macb. One cry'd God blesse vs, and Amen the other, As they had seene me with these Hangmans hands: Listning their feare, I could not say Amen, When they did say God blesse vs

Lady. Consider it not so deepely

Mac. But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen? I had most need of Blessing, and Amen stuck in my throat

Lady. These deeds must not be thought After these wayes: so, it will make vs mad

Macb. Me thought I heard a voyce cry, Sleep no more: Macbeth does murther Sleepe, the innocent Sleepe, Sleepe that knits vp the rauel'd Sleeue of Care, The death of each dayes Life, sore Labors Bath, Balme of hurt Mindes, great Natures second Course, Chiefe nourisher in Life's Feast

Lady. What doe you meane? Macb. Still it cry'd, Sleepe no more to all the House: Glamis hath murther'd Sleepe, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleepe no more: Macbeth shall sleepe no more

Lady. Who was it, that thus cry'd? why worthy Thane, You doe vnbend your Noble strength, to thinke So braine-sickly of things: Goe get some Water, And wash this filthie Witnesse from your Hand. Why did you bring these Daggers from the place? They must lye there: goe carry them, and smeare The sleepie Groomes with blood

Macb. Ile goe no more: I am afraid, to thinke what I haue done: Looke on't againe, I dare not

Lady. Infirme of purpose: Giue me the Daggers: the sleeping, and the dead, Are but as Pictures: 'tis the Eye of Childhood, That feares a painted Deuill. If he doe bleed, Ile guild the Faces of the Groomes withall, For it must seeme their Guilt. Enter.

Knocke within.

Macb. Whence is that knocking? How is't with me, when euery noyse appalls me? What Hands are here? hah: they pluck out mine Eyes. Will all great Neptunes Ocean wash this blood Cleane from my Hand? no: this my Hand will rather The multitudinous Seas incarnardine, Making the Greene one, Red. Enter Lady.

Lady. My Hands are of your colour: but I shame To weare a Heart so white.

Knocke.

I heare a knocking at the South entry: Retyre we to our Chamber: A little Water cleares vs of this deed. How easie is it then? your Constancie Hath left you vnattended.

Knocke.

Hearke, more knocking. Get on your Night-Gowne, least occasion call vs, And shew vs to be Watchers: be not lost So poorely in your thoughts

Macb. To know my deed,

Knocke.

'Twere best not know my selfe. Wake Duncan with thy knocking: I would thou could'st.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter a Porter. Knocking within.

Porter. Here's a knocking indeede: if a man were Porter of Hell Gate, hee should haue old turning the Key.

Knock.

Knock, Knock, Knock. Who's there i'th' name of Belzebub? Here's a Farmer, that hang'd himselfe on th' expectation of Plentie: Come in time, haue Napkins enow about you, here you'le sweat for't.

Knock.

Knock, knock. Who's there in th' other Deuils Name? Faith here's an Equiuocator, that could sweare in both the Scales against eyther Scale, who committed Treason enough for Gods sake, yet could not equiuocate to Heauen: oh come in, Equiuocator.

Knock.

Knock, Knock, Knock. Who's there? 'Faith here's an English Taylor come hither, for stealing out of a French Hose: Come in Taylor, here you may rost your Goose. Knock.

Knock, Knock. Neuer at quiet: What are you? but this place is too cold for Hell. Ile Deuill-Porter it no further: I had thought to haue let in some of all Professions, that goe the Primrose way to th' euerlasting Bonfire.

Knock.

Anon, anon, I pray you remember the Porter. Enter Macduff, and Lenox.

Macd. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to Bed, That you doe lye so late? Port. Faith Sir, we were carowsing till the second Cock: And Drinke, Sir, is a great prouoker of three things

Macd. What three things does Drinke especially prouoke? Port. Marry, Sir, Nose-painting, Sleepe, and Vrine. Lecherie, Sir, it prouokes, and vnprouokes: it prouokes the desire, but it takes away the performance. Therefore much Drinke may be said to be an Equiuocator with Lecherie: it makes him, and it marres him; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it perswades him, and dis-heartens him; makes him stand too, and not stand too: in conclusion, equiuocates him in a sleepe, and giuing him the Lye, leaues him

Macd. I beleeue, Drinke gaue thee the Lye last Night

Port. That it did, Sir, i'the very Throat on me: but I requited him for his Lye, and (I thinke) being too strong for him, though he tooke vp my Legges sometime, yet I made a Shift to cast him. Enter Macbeth.

Macd. Is thy Master stirring? Our knocking ha's awak'd him: here he comes

Lenox. Good morrow, Noble Sir

Macb. Good morrow both

Macd. Is the King stirring, worthy Thane? Macb. Not yet

Macd. He did command me to call timely on him, I haue almost slipt the houre

Macb. Ile bring you to him

Macd. I know this is a ioyfull trouble to you: But yet 'tis one

Macb. The labour we delight in, Physicks paine: This is the Doore

Macd. Ile make so bold to call, for 'tis my limitted seruice.

Exit Macduffe.

Lenox. Goes the King hence to day? Macb. He does: he did appoint so

Lenox. The Night ha's been vnruly: Where we lay, our Chimneys were blowne downe, And (as they say) lamentings heard i'th' Ayre; Strange Schreemes of Death, And Prophecying, with Accents terrible, Of dyre Combustion, and confus'd Euents, New hatch'd toth' wofull time. The obscure Bird clamor'd the liue-long Night. Some say, the Earth was Feuorous, And did shake

Macb. 'Twas a rough Night

Lenox. My young remembrance cannot paralell A fellow to it. Enter Macduff.

Macd. O horror, horror, horror, Tongue nor Heart cannot conceiue, nor name thee

Macb. and Lenox. What's the matter? Macd. Confusion now hath made his Master-peece: Most sacrilegious Murther hath broke ope The Lords anoynted Temple, and stole thence The Life o'th' Building

Macb. What is't you say, the Life? Lenox. Meane you his Maiestie? Macd. Approch the Chamber, and destroy your sight With a new Gorgon. Doe not bid me speake: See, and then speake your selues: awake, awake,

Exeunt. Macbeth and Lenox.

Ring the Alarum Bell: Murther, and Treason, Banquo, and Donalbaine: Malcolme awake, Shake off this Downey sleepe, Deaths counterfeit, And looke on Death it selfe: vp, vp, and see The great Doomes Image: Malcolme, Banquo, As from your Graues rise vp, and walke like Sprights, To countenance this horror. Ring the Bell.

Bell rings. Enter Lady.

Lady. What's the Businesse? That such a hideous Trumpet calls to parley The sleepers of the House? speake, speake

Macd. O gentle Lady, 'Tis not for you to heare what I can speake: The repetition in a Womans eare, Would murther as it fell. Enter Banquo.

O Banquo, Banquo, Our Royall Master's murther'd

Lady. Woe, alas: What, in our House? Ban. Too cruell, any where. Deare Duff, I prythee contradict thy selfe, And say, it is not so. Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Rosse.

Macb. Had I but dy'd an houre before this chance, I had liu'd a blessed time: for from this instant, There's nothing serious in Mortalitie: All is but Toyes: Renowne and Grace is dead, The Wine of Life is drawne, and the meere Lees Is left this Vault, to brag of. Enter Malcolme and Donalbaine.

Donal. What is amisse? Macb. You are, and doe not know't: The Spring, the Head, the Fountaine of your Blood Is stopt, the very Source of it is stopt

Macd. Your Royall Father's murther'd

Mal. Oh, by whom? Lenox. Those of his Chamber, as it seem'd, had don't: Their Hands and Faces were all badg'd with blood, So were their Daggers, which vnwip'd, we found Vpon their Pillowes: they star'd, and were distracted, No mans Life was to be trusted with them

Macb. O, yet I doe repent me of my furie, That I did kill them

Macd. Wherefore did you so? Macb. Who can be wise, amaz'd, temp'rate, & furious, Loyall, and Neutrall, in a moment? No man: Th' expedition of my violent Loue Out-run the pawser, Reason. Here lay Duncan, His Siluer skinne, lac'd with His Golden Blood, And his gash'd Stabs, look'd like a Breach in Nature, For Ruines wastfull entrance: there the Murtherers, Steep'd in the Colours of their Trade; their Daggers Vnmannerly breech'd with gore: who could refraine, That had a heart to loue; and in that heart, Courage, to make's loue knowne? Lady. Helpe me hence, hoa

Macd. Looke to the Lady

Mal. Why doe we hold our tongues, That most may clayme this argument for ours? Donal. What should be spoken here, Where our Fate hid in an augure hole, May rush, and seize vs? Let's away, Our Teares are not yet brew'd

Mal. Nor our strong Sorrow Vpon the foot of Motion

Banq. Looke to the Lady: And when we haue our naked Frailties hid, That suffer in exposure; let vs meet, And question this most bloody piece of worke, To know it further. Feares and scruples shake vs: In the great Hand of God I stand, and thence, Against the vndivulg'd pretence, I fight Of Treasonous Mallice

Macd. And so doe I

All. So all

Macb. Let's briefely put on manly readinesse, And meet i'th' Hall together

All. Well contented.

Exeunt.

Malc. What will you doe? Let's not consort with them: To shew an vnfelt Sorrow, is an Office Which the false man do's easie. Ile to England

Don. To Ireland, I: Our seperated fortune shall keepe vs both the safer: Where we are, there's Daggers in mens smiles; The neere in blood, the neerer bloody

Malc. This murtherous Shaft that's shot, Hath not yet lighted: and our safest way, Is to auoid the ayme. Therefore to Horse, And let vs not be daintie of leaue-taking, But shift away: there's warrant in that Theft, Which steales it selfe, when there's no mercie left.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Rosse, with an Old man.

Old man. Threescore and ten I can remember well, Within the Volume of which Time, I haue seene Houres dreadfull, and things strange: but this sore Night Hath trifled former knowings

Rosse. Ha, good Father, Thou seest the Heauens, as troubled with mans Act, Threatens his bloody Stage: byth' Clock 'tis Day, And yet darke Night strangles the trauailing Lampe: Is't Nights predominance, or the Dayes shame, That Darknesse does the face of Earth intombe, When liuing Light should kisse it? Old man. 'Tis vnnaturall, Euen like the deed that's done: On Tuesday last, A Faulcon towring in her pride of place, Was by a Mowsing Owle hawkt at, and kill'd

Rosse. And Duncans Horses, (A thing most strange, and certaine) Beauteous, and swift, the Minions of their Race, Turn'd wilde in nature, broke their stalls, flong out, Contending 'gainst Obedience, as they would Make Warre with Mankinde

Old man. 'Tis said, they eate each other

Rosse. They did so: To th' amazement of mine eyes that look'd vpon't. Enter Macduffe.

Heere comes the good Macduffe. How goes the world Sir, now? Macd. Why see you not? Ross. Is't known who did this more then bloody deed? Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slaine

Ross. Alas the day, What good could they pretend? Macd. They were subborned, Malcolme, and Donalbaine the Kings two Sonnes Are stolne away and fled, which puts vpon them Suspition of the deed

Rosse. 'Gainst Nature still, Thriftlesse Ambition, that will rauen vp Thine owne liues meanes: Then 'tis most like, The Soueraignty will fall vpon Macbeth

Macd. He is already nam'd, and gone to Scone To be inuested

Rosse. Where is Duncans body? Macd. Carried to Colmekill, The Sacred Store-house of his Predecessors, And Guardian of their Bones

Rosse. Will you to Scone? Macd. No Cosin, Ile to Fife

Rosse. Well, I will thither

Macd. Well may you see things wel done there: Adieu Least our old Robes sit easier then our new

Rosse. Farewell, Father

Old M. Gods benyson go with you, and with those That would make good of bad, and Friends of Foes.

Exeunt. omnes

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Banquo.

Banq. Thou hast it now, King, Cawdor, Glamis, all, As the weyard Women promis'd, and I feare Thou playd'st most fowly for't: yet it was saide It should not stand in thy Posterity, But that my selfe should be the Roote, and Father Of many Kings. If there come truth from them, As vpon thee Macbeth, their Speeches shine, Why by the verities on thee made good, May they not be my Oracles as well, And set me vp in hope. But hush, no more.

Senit sounded. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Lenox, Rosse, Lords, and Attendants.

Macb. Heere's our chiefe Guest

La. If he had beene forgotten, It had bene as a gap in our great Feast, And all-thing vnbecomming

Macb. To night we hold a solemne Supper sir, And Ile request your presence

Banq. Let your Highnesse Command vpon me, to the which my duties Are with a most indissoluble tye For euer knit

Macb. Ride you this afternoone? Ban. I, my good Lord

Macb. We should haue else desir'd your good aduice (Which still hath been both graue, and prosperous) In this dayes Councell: but wee'le take to morrow. Is't farre you ride? Ban. As farre, my Lord, as will fill vp the time 'Twixt this, and Supper. Goe not my Horse the better, I must become a borrower of the Night, For a darke houre, or twaine

Macb. Faile not our Feast

Ban. My Lord, I will not

Macb. We heare our bloody Cozens are bestow'd In England, and in Ireland, not confessing Their cruell Parricide, filling their hearers With strange inuention. But of that to morrow, When therewithall, we shall haue cause of State, Crauing vs ioyntly. Hye you to Horse: Adieu, till you returne at Night. Goes Fleance with you? Ban. I, my good Lord: our time does call vpon's

Macb. I wish your Horses swift, and sure of foot: And so I doe commend you to their backs. Farwell.

Exit Banquo.

Let euery man be master of his time, Till seuen at Night, to make societie The sweeter welcome: We will keepe our selfe till Supper time alone: While then, God be with you.

Exeunt. Lords.

Sirrha, a word with you: Attend those men Our pleasure? Seruant. They are, my Lord, without the Pallace Gate

Macb. Bring them before vs.

Exit Seruant.

To be thus, is nothing, but to be safely thus Our feares in Banquo sticke deepe, And in his Royaltie of Nature reignes that Which would be fear'd. 'Tis much he dares, And to that dauntlesse temper of his Minde, He hath a Wisdome, that doth guide his Valour, To act in safetie. There is none but he, Whose being I doe feare: and vnder him, My Genius is rebuk'd, as it is said Mark Anthonies was by Caesar. He chid the Sisters, When first they put the Name of King vpon me, And bad them speake to him. Then Prophet-like, They hayl'd him Father to a Line of Kings. Vpon my Head they plac'd a fruitlesse Crowne, And put a barren Scepter in my Gripe, Thence to be wrencht with an vnlineall Hand, No Sonne of mine succeeding: if't be so, For Banquo's Issue haue I fil'd my Minde, For them, the gracious Duncan haue I murther'd, Put Rancours in the Vessell of my Peace Onely for them, and mine eternall Iewell Giuen to the common Enemie of Man, To make them Kings, the Seedes of Banquo Kings. Rather then so, come Fate into the Lyst, And champion me to th' vtterance. Who's there? Enter Seruant, and two Murtherers.

Now goe to the Doore, and stay there till we call.

Exit Seruant.

Was it not yesterday we spoke together? Murth. It was, so please your Highnesse

Macb. Well then, Now haue you consider'd of my speeches: Know, that it was he, in the times past, Which held you so vnder fortune, Which you thought had been our innocent selfe. This I made good to you, in our last conference, Past in probation with you: How you were borne in hand, how crost: The Instruments: who wrought with them: And all things else, that might To halfe a Soule, and to a Notion craz'd, Say, Thus did Banquo

1.Murth. You made it knowne to vs

Macb. I did so: And went further, which is now Our point of second meeting. Doe you finde your patience so predominant, In your nature, that you can let this goe? Are you so Gospell'd, to pray for this good man, And for his Issue, whose heauie hand Hath bow'd you to the Graue, and begger'd Yours for euer? 1.Murth. We are men, my Liege

Macb. I, in the Catalogue ye goe for men, As Hounds, and Greyhounds, Mungrels, Spaniels, Curres, Showghes, Water-Rugs, and Demy-Wolues are clipt All by the Name of Dogges: the valued file Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, The House-keeper, the Hunter, euery one According to the gift, which bounteous Nature Hath in him clos'd: whereby he does receiue Particular addition, from the Bill, That writes them all alike: and so of men. Now, if you haue a station in the file, Not i'th' worst ranke of Manhood, say't, And I will put that Businesse in your Bosomes, Whose execution takes your Enemie off, Grapples you to the heart; and loue of vs, Who weare our Health but sickly in his Life, Which in his Death were perfect

2.Murth. I am one, my Liege, Whom the vile Blowes and Buffets of the World Hath so incens'd, that I am recklesse what I doe, To spight the World

1.Murth. And I another, So wearie with Disasters, tugg'd with Fortune, That I would set my Life on any Chance, To mend it, or be rid on't

Macb. Both of you know Banquo was your Enemie

Murth. True, my Lord

Macb. So is he mine: and in such bloody distance, That euery minute of his being, thrusts Against my neer'st of Life: and though I could With bare-fac'd power sweepe him from my sight, And bid my will auouch it; yet I must not, For certaine friends that are both his, and mine, Whose loues I may not drop, but wayle his fall, Who I my selfe struck downe: and thence it is, That I to your assistance doe make loue, Masking the Businesse from the common Eye, For sundry weightie Reasons

2.Murth. We shall, my Lord, Performe what you command vs

1.Murth. Though our Liues- Macb. Your Spirits shine through you. Within this houre, at most, I will aduise you where to plant your selues, Acquaint you with the perfect Spy o'th' time, The moment on't, for't must be done to Night, And something from the Pallace: alwayes thought, That I require a clearenesse; and with him, To leaue no Rubs nor Botches in the Worke: Fleans , his Sonne, that keepes him companie, Whose absence is no lesse materiall to me, Then is his Fathers, must embrace the fate Of that darke houre: resolue your selues apart, Ile come to you anon

Murth. We are resolu'd, my Lord

Macb. Ile call vpon you straight: abide within, It is concluded: Banquo, thy Soules flight, If it finde Heauen, must finde it out to Night.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Macbeths Lady, and a Seruant.

Lady. Is Banquo gone from Court? Seruant. I, Madame, but returnes againe to Night

Lady. Say to the King, I would attend his leysure, For a few words

Seruant. Madame, I will. Enter.

Lady. Nought's had, all's spent. Where our desire is got without content: 'Tis safer, to be that which we destroy, Then by destruction dwell in doubtfull ioy. Enter Macbeth.

How now, my Lord, why doe you keepe alone? Of sorryest Fancies your Companions making, Vsing those Thoughts, which should indeed haue dy'd With them they thinke on: things without all remedie Should be without regard: what's done, is done

Macb. We haue scorch'd the Snake, not kill'd it: Shee'le close, and be her selfe, whilest our poore Mallice Remaines in danger of her former Tooth. But let the frame of things dis-ioynt, Both the Worlds suffer, Ere we will eate our Meale in feare, and sleepe In the affliction of these terrible Dreames, That shake vs Nightly: Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gayne our peace, haue sent to peace, Then on the torture of the Minde to lye In restlesse extasie. Duncane is in his Graue: After Lifes fitfull Feuer, he sleepes well, Treason ha's done his worst: nor Steele, nor Poyson, Mallice domestique, forraine Leuie, nothing, Can touch him further

Lady. Come on: Gentle my Lord, sleeke o're your rugged Lookes, Be bright and Iouiall among your Guests to Night

Macb. So shall I Loue, and so I pray be you: Let your remembrance apply to Banquo, Present him Eminence, both with Eye and Tongue: Vnsafe the while, that wee must laue Our Honors in these flattering streames, And make our Faces Vizards to our Hearts, Disguising what they are

Lady. You must leaue this

Macb. O, full of Scorpions is my Minde, deare Wife: Thou know'st, that Banquo and his Fleans liues

Lady. But in them, Natures Coppie's not eterne

Macb. There's comfort yet, they are assaileable, Then be thou iocund: ere the Bat hath flowne His Cloyster'd flight, ere to black Heccats summons The shard-borne Beetle, with his drowsie hums, Hath rung Nights yawning Peale, There shall be done a deed of dreadfull note

Lady. What's to be done? Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest Chuck, Till thou applaud the deed: Come, seeling Night, Skarfe vp the tender Eye of pittifull Day, And with thy bloodie and inuisible Hand Cancell and teare to pieces that great Bond, Which keepes me pale. Light thickens, And the Crow makes Wing toth' Rookie Wood: Good things of Day begin to droope, and drowse, Whiles Nights black Agents to their Prey's doe rowse. Thou maruell'st at my words: but hold thee still, Things bad begun, make strong themselues by ill: So prythee goe with me.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter three Murtherers.

1. But who did bid thee ioyne with vs? 3. Macbeth

2. He needes not our mistrust, since he deliuers Our Offices, and what we haue to doe, To the direction iust

1. Then stand with vs: The West yet glimmers with some streakes of Day. Now spurres the lated Traueller apace, To gayne the timely Inne, and neere approches The subiect of our Watch

3. Hearke, I heare Horses

Banquo within. Giue vs a Light there, hoa

2. Then 'tis hee: The rest, that are within the note of expectation, Alreadie are i'th' Court

1. His Horses goe about

3. Almost a mile: but he does vsually, So all men doe, from hence toth' Pallace Gate Make it their Walke. Enter Banquo and Fleans, with a Torch.

2. A Light, a Light

3. 'Tis hee

1. Stand too't

Ban. It will be Rayne to Night

1. Let it come downe

Ban. O, Trecherie! Flye good Fleans, flye, flye, flye, Thou may'st reuenge. O Slaue! 3. Who did strike out the Light? 1. Was't not the way? 3. There's but one downe: the Sonne is fled

2. We haue lost Best halfe of our Affaire

1. Well, let's away, and say how much is done.

Exeunt.

Scaena Quarta.

Banquet prepar'd. Enter Macbeth, Lady, Rosse, Lenox, Lords, and Attendants.

Macb. You know your owne degrees, sit downe: At first and last, the hearty welcome

Lords. Thankes to your Maiesty

Macb. Our selfe will mingle with Society, And play the humble Host: Our Hostesse keepes her State, but in best time We will require her welcome

La. Pronounce it for me Sir, to all our Friends, For my heart speakes, they are welcome. Enter first Murtherer.

Macb. See they encounter thee with their harts thanks Both sides are euen: heere Ile sit i'th' mid'st, Be large in mirth, anon wee'l drinke a Measure The Table round. There's blood vpon thy face

Mur. 'Tis Banquo's then

Macb. 'Tis better thee without, then he within. Is he dispatch'd? Mur. My Lord his throat is cut, that I did for him

Mac. Thou art the best o'th' Cut-throats, Yet hee's good that did the like for Fleans: If thou did'st it, thou art the Non-pareill

Mur. Most Royall Sir Fleans is scap'd

Macb. Then comes my Fit againe: I had else beene perfect; Whole as the Marble, founded as the Rocke, As broad, and generall, as the casing Ayre: But now I am cabin'd, crib'd, confin'd, bound in To sawcy doubts, and feares. But Banquo's safe? Mur. I, my good Lord: safe in a ditch he bides, With twenty trenched gashes on his head; The least a Death to Nature

Macb. Thankes for that: There the growne Serpent lyes, the worme that's fled Hath Nature that in time will Venom breed, No teeth for th' present. Get thee gone, to morrow Wee'l heare our selues againe.

Exit Murderer.

Lady. My Royall Lord, You do not giue the Cheere, the Feast is sold That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a making: 'Tis giuen, with welcome: to feede were best at home: From thence, the sawce to meate is Ceremony, Meeting were bare without it. Enter the Ghost of Banquo, and sits in Macbeths place.

Macb. Sweet Remembrancer: Now good digestion waite on Appetite, And health on both

Lenox. May't please your Highnesse sit

Macb. Here had we now our Countries Honor, roof'd, Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present: Who, may I rather challenge for vnkindnesse, Then pitty for Mischance

Rosse. His absence (Sir) Layes blame vpon his promise. Pleas't your Highnesse To grace vs with your Royall Company? Macb. The Table's full

Lenox. Heere is a place reseru'd Sir

Macb. Where? Lenox. Heere my good Lord. What is't that moues your Highnesse? Macb. Which of you haue done this? Lords. What, my good Lord? Macb. Thou canst not say I did it: neuer shake Thy goary lockes at me

Rosse. Gentlemen rise, his Highnesse is not well

Lady. Sit worthy Friends: my Lord is often thus, And hath beene from his youth. Pray you keepe Seat, The fit is momentary, vpon a thought He will againe be well. If much you note him You shall offend him, and extend his Passion, Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man? Macb. I, and a bold one, that dare looke on that Which might appall the Diuell

La. O proper stuffe: This is the very painting of your feare: This is the Ayre-drawne-Dagger which you said Led you to Duncan. O, these flawes and starts (Impostors to true feare) would well become A womans story, at a Winters fire Authoriz'd by her Grandam: shame it selfe, Why do you make such faces? When all's done You looke but on a stoole

Macb. Prythee see there: Behold, looke, loe, how say you: Why what care I, if thou canst nod, speake too. If Charnell houses, and our Graues must send Those that we bury, backe; our Monuments Shall be the Mawes of Kytes

La. What? quite vnmann'd in folly

Macb. If I stand heere, I saw him

La. Fie for shame

Macb. Blood hath bene shed ere now, i'th' olden time Ere humane Statute purg'd the gentle Weale: I, and since too, Murthers haue bene perform'd Too terrible for the eare. The times has bene, That when the Braines were out, the man would dye, And there an end: But now they rise againe With twenty mortall murthers on their crownes, And push vs from our stooles. This is more strange Then such a murther is

La. My worthy Lord Your Noble Friends do lacke you

Macb. I do forget: Do not muse at me my most worthy Friends, I haue a strange infirmity, which is nothing To those that know me. Come, loue and health to all, Then Ile sit downe: Giue me some Wine, fill full: Enter Ghost.

I drinke to th' generall ioy o'th' whole Table, And to our deere Friend Banquo, whom we misse: Would he were heere: to all, and him we thirst, And all to all

Lords. Our duties, and the pledge

Mac. Auant, & quit my sight, let the earth hide thee: Thy bones are marrowlesse, thy blood is cold: Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with

La. Thinke of this good Peeres But as a thing of Custome: 'Tis no other, Onely it spoyles the pleasure of the time

Macb. What man dare, I dare: Approach thou like the rugged Russian Beare, The arm'd Rhinoceros, or th' Hircan Tiger, Take any shape but that, and my firme Nerues Shall neuer tremble. Or be aliue againe, And dare me to the Desart with thy Sword: If trembling I inhabit then, protest mee The Baby of a Girle. Hence horrible shadow, Vnreall mock'ry hence. Why so, being gone I am a man againe: pray you sit still

La. You haue displac'd the mirth, Broke the good meeting, with most admir'd disorder

Macb. Can such things be, And ouercome vs like a Summers Clowd, Without our speciall wonder? You make me strange Euen to the disposition that I owe, When now I thinke you can behold such sights, And keepe the naturall Rubie of your Cheekes, When mine is blanch'd with feare

Rosse. What sights, my Lord? La. I pray you speake not: he growes worse & worse Question enrages him: at once, goodnight. Stand not vpon the order of your going, But go at once

Len. Good night, and better health Attend his Maiesty

La. A kinde goodnight to all.

Exit Lords.

Macb. It will haue blood they say: Blood will haue Blood: Stones haue beene knowne to moue, & Trees to speake: Augures, and vnderstood Relations, haue By Maggot Pyes, & Choughes, & Rookes brought forth The secret'st man of Blood. What is the night? La. Almost at oddes with morning, which is which

Macb. How say'st thou that Macduff denies his person At our great bidding

La. Did you send to him Sir? Macb. I heare it by the way: But I will send: There's not a one of them but in his house I keepe a Seruant Feed. I will to morrow (And betimes I will) to the weyard Sisters. More shall they speake: for now I am bent to know By the worst meanes, the worst, for mine owne good, All causes shall giue way. I am in blood Stept in so farre, that should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go ore: Strange things I haue in head, that will to hand, Which must be acted, ere they may be scand

La. You lacke the season of all Natures, sleepe

Macb. Come, wee'l to sleepe: My strange & self-abuse Is the initiate feare, that wants hard vse: We are yet but yong indeed.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecat.

1. Why how now Hecat, you looke angerly? Hec. Haue I not reason (Beldams) as you are? Sawcy, and ouer-bold, how did you dare To Trade, and Trafficke with Macbeth, In Riddles, and Affaires of death; And I the Mistris of your Charmes, The close contriuer of all harmes, Was neuer call'd to beare my part, Or shew the glory of our Art? And which is worse, all you haue done Hath bene but for a wayward Sonne, Spightfull, and wrathfull, who (as others do) Loues for his owne ends, not for you. But make amends now: Get you gon, And at the pit of Acheron Meete me i'th' Morning: thither he Will come, to know his Destinie. Your Vessels, and your Spels prouide, Your Charmes, and euery thing beside; I am for th' Ayre: This night Ile spend Vnto a dismall, and a Fatall end. Great businesse must be wrought ere Noone. Vpon the Corner of the Moone There hangs a vap'rous drop, profound, Ile catch it ere it come to ground; And that distill'd by Magicke slights, Shall raise such Artificiall Sprights, As by the strength of their illusion, Shall draw him on to his Confusion. He shall spurne Fate, scorne Death, and beare His hopes 'boue Wisedome, Grace, and Feare: And you all know, Security Is Mortals cheefest Enemie.

Musicke, and a Song.

Hearke, I am call'd: my little Spirit see Sits in Foggy cloud, and stayes for me.

Sing within. Come away, come away, &c.

1 Come, let's make hast, shee'l soone be Backe againe.

Exeunt.

Scaena Sexta.

Enter Lenox, and another Lord.

Lenox. My former Speeches, Haue but hit your Thoughts Which can interpret farther: Onely I say Things haue bin strangely borne. The gracious Duncan Was pittied of Macbeth: marry he was dead: And the right valiant Banquo walk'd too late, Whom you may say (if't please you) Fleans kill'd, For Fleans fled: Men must not walke too late. Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous It was for Malcolme, and for Donalbane To kill their gracious Father? Damned Fact, How it did greeue Macbeth? Did he not straight In pious rage, the two delinquents teare, That were the Slaues of drinke, and thralles of sleepe? Was not that Nobly done? I, and wisely too: For 'twould haue anger'd any heart aliue To heare the men deny't. So that I say, He ha's borne all things well, and I do thinke, That had he Duncans Sonnes vnder his Key, (As, and't please Heauen he shall not) they should finde What 'twere to kill a Father: So should Fleans. But peace; for from broad words, and cause he fayl'd His presence at the Tyrants Feast, I heare Macduffe liues in disgrace. Sir, can you tell Where he bestowes himselfe? Lord. The Sonnes of Duncane (From whom this Tyrant holds the due of Birth) Liues in the English Court, and is receyu'd Of the most Pious Edward, with such grace, That the maleuolence of Fortune, nothing Takes from his high respect. Thither Macduffe Is gone, to pray the Holy King, vpon his ayd To wake Northumberland, and warlike Seyward, That by the helpe of these (with him aboue) To ratifie the Worke) we may againe Giue to our Tables meate, sleepe to our Nights: Free from our Feasts, and Banquets bloody kniues; Do faithfull Homage, and receiue free Honors, All which we pine for now. And this report Hath so exasperate their King, that hee Prepares for some attempt of Warre

Len. Sent he to Macduffe? Lord. He did: and with an absolute Sir, not I The clowdy Messenger turnes me his backe, And hums; as who should say, you'l rue the time That clogges me with this Answer

Lenox. And that well might Aduise him to a Caution, t' hold what distance His wisedome can prouide. Some holy Angell Flye to the Court of England, and vnfold His Message ere he come, that a swift blessing May soone returne to this our suffering Country, Vnder a hand accurs'd

Lord. Ile send my Prayers with him.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

1 Thrice the brinded Cat hath mew'd

2 Thrice, and once the Hedge-Pigge whin'd

3 Harpier cries, 'tis time, 'tis time

1 Round about the Caldron go: In the poysond Entrailes throw Toad, that vnder cold stone, Dayes and Nights, ha's thirty one: Sweltred Venom sleeping got, Boyle thou first i'th' charmed pot

All. Double, double, toile and trouble; Fire burne, and Cauldron bubble

2 Fillet of a Fenny Snake, In the Cauldron boyle and bake: Eye of Newt, and Toe of Frogge, Wooll of Bat, and Tongue of Dogge: Adders Forke, and Blinde-wormes Sting, Lizards legge, and Howlets wing: For a Charme of powrefull trouble, Like a Hell-broth, boyle and bubble

All. Double, double, toyle and trouble, Fire burne, and Cauldron bubble

3 Scale of Dragon, Tooth of Wolfe, Witches Mummey, Maw, and Gulfe Of the rauin'd salt Sea sharke: Roote of Hemlocke, digg'd i'th' darke: Liuer of Blaspheming Iew, Gall of Goate, and Slippes of Yew, Sliuer'd in the Moones Ecclipse: Nose of Turke, and Tartars lips: Finger of Birth-strangled Babe, Ditch-deliuer'd by a Drab, Make the Grewell thicke, and slab. Adde thereto a Tigers Chawdron, For th' Ingredience of our Cawdron

All. Double, double, toyle and trouble, Fire burne, and Cauldron bubble

2 Coole it with a Baboones blood, Then the Charme is firme and good. Enter Hecat, and the other three Witches.

Hec. O well done: I commend your paines, And euery one shall share i'th' gaines: And now about the Cauldron sing Like Elues and Fairies in a Ring, Inchanting all that you put in.

Musicke and a Song. Blacke Spirits, &c.

2 By the pricking of my Thumbes, Something wicked this way comes: Open Lockes, who euer knockes. Enter Macbeth.

Macb. How now you secret, black, & midnight Hags? What is't you do? All. A deed without a name

Macb. I coniure you, by that which you Professe, (How ere you come to know it) answer me: Though you vntye the Windes, and let them fight Against the Churches: Though the yesty Waues Confound and swallow Nauigation vp: Though bladed Corne be lodg'd, & Trees blown downe, Though Castles topple on their Warders heads: Though Pallaces, and Pyramids do slope Their heads to their Foundations: Though the treasure Of Natures Germaine, tumble altogether, Euen till destruction sicken: Answer me To what I aske you

1 Speake

2 Demand

3 Wee'l answer

1 Say, if th'hadst rather heare it from our mouthes, Or from our Masters

Macb. Call 'em: let me see 'em

1 Powre in Sowes blood, that hath eaten Her nine Farrow: Greaze that's sweaten From the Murderers Gibbet, throw Into the Flame

All. Come high or low: Thy Selfe and Office deaftly show. Thunder. 1. Apparation, an Armed Head.

Macb. Tell me, thou vnknowne power

1 He knowes thy thought: Heare his speech, but say thou nought

1 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth: Beware Macduffe, Beware the Thane of Fife: dismisse me. Enough.

He Descends.

Macb. What ere thou art, for thy good caution, thanks Thou hast harp'd my feare aright. But one word more

1 He will not be commanded: heere's another More potent then the first.

Thunder. 2 Apparition, a Bloody Childe.

2 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth

Macb. Had I three eares, Il'd heare thee

Appar. Be bloody, bold, & resolute: Laugh to scorne The powre of man: For none of woman borne Shall harme Macbeth.

Descends.

Mac. Then liue Macduffe: what need I feare of thee? But yet Ile make assurance: double sure, And take a Bond of Fate: thou shalt not liue, That I may tell pale-hearted Feare, it lies; And sleepe in spight of Thunder.

Thunder 3 Apparation, a Childe Crowned, with a Tree in his hand.

What is this, that rises like the issue of a King, And weares vpon his Baby-brow, the round And top of Soueraignty? All. Listen, but speake not too't

3 Appar. Be Lyon metled, proud, and take no care: Who chafes, who frets, or where Conspirers are: Macbeth shall neuer vanquish'd be, vntill Great Byrnam Wood, to high Dunsmane Hill Shall come against him.

Descend.

Macb. That will neuer bee: Who can impresse the Forrest, bid the Tree Vnfixe his earth-bound Root? Sweet boadments, good: Rebellious dead, rise neuer till the Wood Of Byrnan rise, and our high plac'd Macbeth Shall liue the Lease of Nature, pay his breath To time, and mortall Custome. Yet my Hart Throbs to know one thing: Tell me, if your Art Can tell so much: Shall Banquo's issue euer Reigne in this Kingdome? All. Seeke to know no more

Macb. I will be satisfied. Deny me this, And an eternall Curse fall on you: Let me know. Why sinkes that Caldron? & what noise is this?

Hoboyes

1 Shew

2 Shew

3 Shew

All. Shew his Eyes, and greeue his Hart, Come like shadowes, so depart.

A shew of eight Kings, and Banquo last, with a glasse in his hand.

Macb. Thou art too like the Spirit of Banquo: Down: Thy Crowne do's seare mine Eye-bals. And thy haire Thou other Gold-bound-brow, is like the first: A third, is like the former. Filthy Hagges, Why do you shew me this? - A fourth? Start eyes! What will the Line stretch out to'th' cracke of Doome? Another yet? A seauenth? Ile see no more: And yet the eighth appeares, who beares a glasse, Which shewes me many more: and some I see, That two-fold Balles, and trebble Scepters carry. Horrible sight: Now I see 'tis true, For the Blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles vpon me, And points at them for his. What? is this so? 1 I Sir, all this is so. But why Stands Macbeth thus amazedly? Come Sisters, cheere we vp his sprights, And shew the best of our delights. Ile Charme the Ayre to giue a sound, While you performe your Antique round: That this great King may kindly say, Our duties, did his welcome pay.

Musicke. The Witches Dance, and vanish.

Macb. Where are they? Gone? Let this pernitious houre, Stand aye accursed in the Kalender. Come in, without there. Enter Lenox.

Lenox. What's your Graces will

Macb. Saw you the Weyard Sisters? Lenox. No my Lord

Macb. Came they not by you? Lenox. No indeed my Lord

Macb. Infected be the Ayre whereon they ride, And damn'd all those that trust them. I did heare The gallopping of Horse. Who was't came by? Len. 'Tis two or three my Lord, that bring you word: Macduff is fled to England

Macb. Fled to England? Len. I, my good Lord

Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits: The flighty purpose neuer is o're-tooke Vnlesse the deed go with it. From this moment, The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And euen now To Crown my thoughts with Acts: be it thoght & done: The Castle of Macduff, I will surprize. Seize vpon Fife; giue to th' edge o'th' Sword His Wife, his Babes, and all vnfortunate Soules That trace him in his Line. No boasting like a Foole, This deed Ile do, before this purpose coole, But no more sights. Where are these Gentlemen? Come bring me where they are.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Macduffes Wife, her Son, and Rosse.

Wife. What had he done, to make him fly the Land? Rosse. You must haue patience Madam

Wife. He had none: His flight was madnesse: when our Actions do not, Our feares do make vs Traitors

Rosse. You know not Whether it was his wisedome, or his feare

Wife. Wisedom? to leaue his wife, to leaue his Babes, His Mansion, and his Titles, in a place From whence himselfe do's flye? He loues vs not, He wants the naturall touch. For the poore Wren (The most diminitiue of Birds) will fight, Her yong ones in her Nest, against the Owle: All is the Feare, and nothing is the Loue; As little is the Wisedome, where the flight So runnes against all reason

Rosse. My deerest Cooz, I pray you schoole your selfe. But for your Husband, He is Noble, Wise, Iudicious, and best knowes The fits o'th' Season. I dare not speake much further, But cruell are the times, when we are Traitors And do not know our selues: when we hold Rumor From what we feare, yet know not what we feare, But floate vpon a wilde and violent Sea Each way, and moue. I take my leaue of you: Shall not be long but Ile be heere againe: Things at the worst will cease, or else climbe vpward, To what they were before. My pretty Cosine, Blessing vpon you

Wife. Father'd he is, And yet hee's Father-lesse

Rosse. I am so much a Foole, should I stay longer It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort. I take my leaue at once.

Exit Rosse.

Wife. Sirra, your Fathers dead, And what will you do now? How will you liue? Son. As Birds do Mother

Wife. What with Wormes, and Flyes? Son. With what I get I meane, and so do they

Wife. Poore Bird, Thou'dst neuer Feare the Net, nor Lime, The Pitfall, nor the Gin

Son. Why should I Mother? Poore Birds they are not set for: My Father is not dead for all your saying

Wife. Yes, he is dead: How wilt thou do for a Father? Son. Nay how will you do for a Husband? Wife. Why I can buy me twenty at any Market

Son. Then you'l by 'em to sell againe

Wife. Thou speak'st withall thy wit, And yet I'faith with wit enough for thee

Son. Was my Father a Traitor, Mother? Wife. I, that he was

Son. What is a Traitor? Wife. Why one that sweares, and lyes

Son. And be all Traitors, that do so

Wife. Euery one that do's so, is a Traitor, And must be hang'd

Son. And must they all be hang'd, that swear and lye? Wife. Euery one

Son. Who must hang them? Wife. Why, the honest men

Son. Then the Liars and Swearers are Fools: for there are Lyars and Swearers enow, to beate the honest men, and hang vp them

Wife. Now God helpe thee, poore Monkie: But how wilt thou do for a Father? Son. If he were dead, youl'd weepe for him: if you would not, it were a good signe, that I should quickely haue a new Father

Wife. Poore pratler, how thou talk'st? Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Blesse you faire Dame: I am not to you known, Though in your state of Honor I am perfect; I doubt some danger do's approach you neerely. If you will take a homely mans aduice, Be not found heere: Hence with your little ones To fright you thus. Me thinkes I am too sauage: To do worse to you, were fell Cruelty, Which is too nie your person. Heauen preserue you, I dare abide no longer.

Exit Messenger

Wife. Whether should I flye? I haue done no harme. But I remember now I am in this earthly world: where to do harme Is often laudable, to do good sometime Accounted dangerous folly. Why then (alas) Do I put vp that womanly defence, To say I haue done no harme? What are these faces? Enter Murtherers.

Mur. Where is your Husband? Wife. I hope in no place so vnsanctified, Where such as thou may'st finde him

Mur. He's a Traitor

Son. Thou ly'st thou shagge-ear'd Villaine

Mur. What you Egge? Yong fry of Treachery? Son. He ha's kill'd me Mother, Run away I pray you.

Exit crying Murther.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Malcolme and Macduffe.

Mal. Let vs seeke out some desolate shade, & there Weepe our sad bosomes empty

Macd. Let vs rather Hold fast the mortall Sword: and like good men, Bestride our downfall Birthdome: each new Morne, New Widdowes howle, new Orphans cry, new sorowes Strike heauen on the face, that it resounds As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out Like Syllable of Dolour

Mal. What I beleeue, Ile waile; What know, beleeue; and what I can redresse, As I shall finde the time to friend: I wil. What you haue spoke, it may be so perchance. This Tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, Was once thought honest: you haue lou'd him well, He hath not touch'd you yet. I am yong, but something You may discerne of him through me, and wisedome To offer vp a weake, poore innocent Lambe T' appease an angry God

Macd. I am not treacherous

Malc. But Macbeth is. A good and vertuous Nature may recoyle In an Imperiall charge. But I shall craue your pardon: That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose; Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell. Though all things foule, would wear the brows of grace Yet Grace must still looke so

Macd. I haue lost my Hopes

Malc. Perchance euen there Where I did finde my doubts. Why in that rawnesse left you Wife, and Childe? Those precious Motiues, those strong knots of Loue, Without leaue-taking. I pray you, Let not my Iealousies, be your Dishonors, But mine owne Safeties: you may be rightly iust, What euer I shall thinke

Macd. Bleed, bleed poore Country, Great Tyrrany, lay thou thy basis sure, For goodnesse dare not check thee: wear y thy wrongs, The Title, is affear'd. Far thee well Lord, I would not be the Villaine that thou think'st, For the whole Space that's in the Tyrants Graspe, And the rich East to boot

Mal. Be not offended: I speake not as in absolute feare of you: I thinke our Country sinkes beneath the yoake, It weepes, it bleeds, and each new day a gash Is added to her wounds. I thinke withall, There would be hands vplifted in my right: And heere from gracious England haue I offer Of goodly thousands. But for all this, When I shall treade vpon the Tyrants head, Or weare it on my Sword; yet my poore Country Shall haue more vices then it had before, More suffer, and more sundry wayes then euer, By him that shall succeede

Macd. What should he be? Mal. It is my selfe I meane: in whom I know All the particulars of Vice so grafted, That when they shall be open'd, blacke Macbeth Will seeme as pure as Snow, and the poore State Esteeme him as a Lambe, being compar'd With my confinelesse harmes

Macd. Not in the Legions Of horrid Hell, can come a Diuell more damn'd In euils, to top Macbeth

Mal. I grant him Bloody, Luxurious, Auaricious, False, Deceitfull, Sodaine, Malicious, smacking of euery sinne That ha's a name. But there's no bottome, none In my Voluptuousnesse: Your Wiues, your Daughters, Your Matrons, and your Maides, could not fill vp The Cesterne of my Lust, and my Desire All continent Impediments would ore-beare That did oppose my will. Better Macbeth, Then such an one to reigne

Macd. Boundlesse intemperance In Nature is a Tyranny: It hath beene Th' vntimely emptying of the happy Throne, And fall of many Kings. But feare not yet To take vpon you what is yours: you may Conuey your pleasures in a spacious plenty, And yet seeme cold. The time you may so hoodwinke: We haue willing Dames enough: there cannot be That Vulture in you, to deuoure so many As will to Greatnesse dedicate themselues, Finding it so inclinde

Mal. With this, there growes In my most ill-composd Affection, such A stanchlesse Auarice, that were I King, I should cut off the Nobles for their Lands, Desire his Iewels, and this others House, And my more-hauing, would be as a Sawce To make me hunger more, that I should forge Quarrels vniust against the Good and Loyall, Destroying them for wealth

Macd. This Auarice stickes deeper: growes with more pernicious roote Then Summer-seeming Lust: and it hath bin The Sword of our slaine Kings: yet do not feare, Scotland hath Foysons, to fill vp your will Of your meere Owne. All these are portable, With other Graces weigh'd

Mal. But I haue none. The King-becoming Graces, As Iustice, Verity, Temp'rance, Stablenesse, Bounty, Perseuerance, Mercy, Lowlinesse, Deuotion, Patience, Courage, Fortitude, I haue no rellish of them, but abound In the diuision of each seuerall Crime, Acting it many wayes. Nay, had I powre, I should Poure the sweet Milke of Concord, into Hell, Vprore the vniuersall peace, confound All vnity on earth

Macd. O Scotland, Scotland

Mal. If such a one be fit to gouerne, speake: I am as I haue spoken

Mac. Fit to gouern? No not to liue. O Natio[n] miserable! With an vntitled Tyrant, bloody Sceptred, When shalt thou see thy wholsome dayes againe? Since that the truest Issue of thy Throne By his owne Interdiction stands accust, And do's blaspheme his breed? Thy Royall Father Was a most Sainted-King: the Queene that bore thee, Oftner vpon her knees, then on her feet, Dy'de euery day she liu'd. Fare thee well, These Euils thou repeat'st vpon thy selfe, Hath banish'd me from Scotland. O my Brest, Thy hope ends heere

Mal. Macduff, this Noble passion Childe of integrity, hath from my soule Wip'd the blacke Scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts To thy good Truth, and Honor. Diuellish Macbeth, By many of these traines, hath sought to win me Into his power: and modest Wisedome pluckes me From ouer-credulous hast: but God aboue Deale betweene thee and me; For euen now I put my selfe to thy Direction, and Vnspeake mine owne detraction. Heere abiure The taints, and blames I laide vpon my selfe, For strangers to my Nature. I am yet Vnknowne to Woman, neuer was forsworne, Scarsely haue coueted what was mine owne. At no time broke my Faith, would not betray The Deuill to his Fellow, and delight No lesse in truth then life. My first false speaking Was this vpon my selfe. What I am truly Is thine, and my poore Countries to command: Whither indeed, before they heere approach Old Seyward with ten thousand warlike men Already at a point, was setting foorth: Now wee'l together, and the chance of goodnesse Be like our warranted Quarrell. Why are you silent? Macd. Such welcome, and vnwelcom things at once 'Tis hard to reconcile. Enter a Doctor.

Mal. Well, more anon. Comes the King forth I pray you? Doct. I Sir: there are a crew of wretched Soules That stay his Cure: their malady conuinces The great assay of Art. But at his touch, Such sanctity hath Heauen giuen his hand, They presently amend. Enter.

Mal. I thanke you Doctor

Macd. What's the Disease he meanes? Mal. Tis call'd the Euill. A most myraculous worke in this good King, Which often since my heere remaine in England, I haue seene him do: How he solicites heauen Himselfe best knowes: but strangely visited people All swolne and Vlcerous, pittifull to the eye, The meere dispaire of Surgery, he cures, Hanging a golden stampe about their neckes, Put on with holy Prayers, and 'tis spoken To the succeeding Royalty he leaues The healing Benediction. With this strange vertue, He hath a heauenly guift of Prophesie, And sundry Blessings hang about his Throne, That speake him full of Grace. Enter Rosse.

Macd. See who comes heere

Malc. My Countryman: but yet I know him not

Macd. My euer gentle Cozen, welcome hither

Malc. I know him now. Good God betimes remoue The meanes that makes vs Strangers

Rosse. Sir, Amen

Macd. Stands Scotland where it did? Rosse. Alas poore Countrey, Almost affraid to know it selfe. It cannot Be call'd our Mother, but our Graue; where nothing But who knowes nothing, is once seene to smile: Where sighes, and groanes, and shrieks that rent the ayre Are made, not mark'd: Where violent sorrow seemes A Moderne extasie: The Deadmans knell, Is there scarse ask'd for who, and good mens liues Expire before the Flowers in their Caps, Dying, or ere they sicken

Macd. Oh Relation; too nice, and yet too true

Malc. What's the newest griefe? Rosse. That of an houres age, doth hisse the speaker, Each minute teemes a new one

Macd. How do's my Wife? Rosse. Why well

Macd. And all my Children? Rosse. Well too

Macd. The Tyrant ha's not batter'd at their peace? Rosse. No, they were wel at peace, when I did leaue 'em Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech: How gos't? Rosse. When I came hither to transport the Tydings Which I haue heauily borne, there ran a Rumour Of many worthy Fellowes, that were out, Which was to my beleefe witnest the rather, For that I saw the Tyrants Power a-foot. Now is the time of helpe: your eye in Scotland Would create Soldiours, make our women fight, To doffe their dire distresses

Malc. Bee't their comfort We are comming thither: Gracious England hath Lent vs good Seyward, and ten thousand men, An older, and a better Souldier, none That Christendome giues out

Rosse. Would I could answer This comfort with the like. But I haue words That would be howl'd out in the desert ayre, Where hearing should not latch them

Macd. What concerne they, The generall cause, or is it a Fee-griefe Due to some single brest? Rosse. No minde that's honest But in it shares some woe, though the maine part Pertaines to you alone

Macd. If it be mine Keepe it not from me, quickly let me haue it

Rosse. Let not your eares dispise my tongue for euer, Which shall possesse them with the heauiest sound that euer yet they heard

Macd. Humh: I guesse at it

Rosse. Your Castle is surpriz'd: your Wife, and Babes Sauagely slaughter'd: To relate the manner Were on the Quarry of these murther'd Deere To adde the death of you

Malc. Mercifull Heauen: What man, ne're pull your hat vpon your browes: Giue sorrow words; the griefe that do's not speake, Whispers the o're-fraught heart, and bids it breake

Macd. My Children too? Ro. Wife, Children, Seruants, all that could be found

Macd. And I must be from thence? My wife kil'd too? Rosse. I haue said

Malc. Be comforted. Let's make vs Med'cines of our great Reuenge, To cure this deadly greefe

Macd. He ha's no Children. All my pretty ones? Did you say All? Oh Hell-Kite! All? What, All my pretty Chickens, and their Damme At one fell swoope? Malc. Dispute it like a man

Macd. I shall do so: But I must also feele 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 slaughter on their soules: Heauen rest them now

Mal. Be this the Whetstone of your sword, let griefe Conuert 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 intermission: Front to Front, Bring thou this Fiend of Scotland, and my selfe Within my Swords length set 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.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter a Doctor of Physicke, and a Wayting Gentlewoman.

Doct. 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 Maiesty went into the Field, I haue seene her rise from her bed, throw her Night-Gown vppon her, vnlocke her Closset, take foorth paper, folde it, write vpon't, read it, afterwards Seale it, and againe returne to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleepe

Doct. A great perturbation in Nature, to receyue at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching. In this slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other actuall performances, what (at any time) haue you heard her say? Gent. That Sir, which I will not report after her

Doct. 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 guise, and vpon my life fast asleepe: obserue her, stand close

Doct. How came she by that light? Gent. Why it stood by her: she ha's light by her continually, 'tis her command

Doct. You see her eyes are open

Gent. I, but their sense are shut

Doct. What is it she do's now? Looke how she rubbes her hands

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

Lad. Yet heere's a spot

Doct. Heark, she speaks, I will set downe what comes from her, to satisfie 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, fie, a Souldier, and affear'd? what need we feare? 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

Doct. Do you marke that? Lad. The Thane of Fife, had a wife: where is she now? What will these hands ne're be cleane? No more o'that my Lord, no more o'that: you marre all with this starting

Doct. 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 still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh

Doct. What a sigh is there? The hart is sorely charg'd

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

Doct. Well, well, well

Gent. Pray God it be sir

Doct. This disease is beyond my practise: yet I haue knowne those which haue walkt in their sleep, who haue dyed holily in their beds

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

Doct. 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.

Doct. Will she go now to bed? Gent. Directly

Doct. Foule whisp'rings are abroad: vnnaturall deeds Do breed vnnaturall troubles: infected mindes To their deafe pillowes will discharge their Secrets: More needs she the Diuine, then the Physitian: God, God forgiue 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 sight. I thinke, but dare not speake

Gent. Good night good Doctor.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

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

Ment. The English powre is neere, led on by Malcolm, His Vnkle Seyward, and the good Macduff. Reuenges burne in them: for their deere causes 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 vnruffe youths, that euen now Protest their first of Manhood

Ment. What do's the Tyrant

Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly Fortifies: Some say hee's mad: Others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant Fury, but for certaine He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause Within the belt of Rule

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

Ment. Who then shall blame His pester'd Senses to recoyle, and start, When all that is within him, do's condemne It selfe, for being there

Cath. Well, march we on, To giue Obedience, where 'tis truly ow'd: Meet we the Med'cine of the sickly 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.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.

Macb. Bring me no more Reports, let them flye all: Till Byrnane wood remoue to Dunsinane, I cannot taint with Feare. What's the Boy Malcolme? 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 sagge with doubt, nor shake with feare. Enter Seruant.

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

Ser. There is ten thousand

Macb. Geese Villaine? Ser. Souldiers Sir

Macb. Go pricke thy face, and ouer-red thy feare Thou Lilly-liuer'd Boy. What Soldiers, Patch? Death of thy Soule, those Linnen cheekes of thine Are Counsailers to feare. What Soldiers Whay-face? Ser. The English Force, so please you

Macb. Take thy face hence. Seyton, I am sick at hart, When I behold: Seyton, I say, this push Will cheere me euer, or dis-eate me now. I haue liu'd long enough: my way of life Is falne into the Seare, 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 steed, 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 pleasure? Macb. What Newes more? Sey. All is confirm'd my Lord, which was reported

Macb. Ile fight, till from my bones, my flesh be hackt. Giue me my Armor

Seyt. 'Tis not needed yet

Macb. Ile put it on: Send out moe Horses, skirre the Country round, Hang those 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

Macb. Cure of that: Can'st thou not Minister 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 Cleanse the stufft bosome, of that perillous stuffe Which weighes vpon the heart? Doct. Therein the Patient Must minister to himselfe

Macb. Throw Physicke to the Dogs, Ile none of it. Come, put mine Armour on: giue me my Staffe: Seyton, send out: Doctor, the Thanes flye from me: Come sir, dispatch. If thou could'st Doctor, cast The Water of my Land, finde her Disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine 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 scowre these English hence: hear'st y of them? Doct. I my good Lord: your Royall Preparation Makes vs heare something

Macb. 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.

Drum and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe, Seywards Sonne, Menteth, 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

Syw. We learne no other, but the confident Tyrant Keepes still in Dunsinane, and will indure Our setting downe befor't

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, Whose hearts are absent too

Macd. Let our iust Censures Attend the true euent, and put we on Industrious Souldiership

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

Exeunt. marching

Scena Quinta.

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

Macb. 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 forc'd with those 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

Macb. I haue almost forgot the taste of Feares: The time ha's beene, my sences would haue cool'd To heare a Night-shrieke, and my Fell of haire Would at a dismall Treatise rowze, and stirre As life were in't. I haue supt full with horrors, Direnesse familiar to my slaughterous thoughts Cannot once start me. Wherefore was that cry? Sey. The Queene (my Lord) is dead

Macb. She should haue dy'de heereafter; 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 yesterdayes, haue lighted Fooles The way to dusty death. Out, out, breefe Candle, Life's but a walking Shadow, a poore Player, That struts and frets his houre vpon the Stage, And then is heard no more. It is a Tale Told by an Ideot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing. Enter a Messenger.

Thou com'st to vse thy Tongue: thy Story quickly

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

Macb. Well, say sir

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

Macb. Lyar, and Slaue

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

Macb. If thou speak'st false, 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 Resolution, and begin To doubt th' Equiuocation of the Fiend, That lies like truth. Feare not, till Byrnane 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 wish th' estate o'th' world were now vndon. Ring the Alarum Bell, blow Winde, come wracke, At least wee'l dye with Harnesse on our backe.

Exeunt.

Scena Sexta.

Drumme and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe, and their Army, with Boughes.

Mal. Now neere enough: Your leauy Skreenes throw downe, And shew like those you are: You (worthy Vnkle) Shall with my Cosin your right Noble Sonne Leade our first Battell. Worthy Macduffe, and wee Shall take vpon's what else remaines 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

Macd. Make all our Trumpets speak, giue the[m] all breath Those clamorous Harbingers of Blood, & Death.

Exeunt.

Alarums continued.

Scena Septima.

Enter Macbeth.

Macb. 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.

Y.Sey. What is thy name? Macb. Thou'lt be affraid to heare it

Y.Sey. No: though thou call'st thy selfe a hoter name Then any is in hell

Macb. My name's Macbeth

Y.Sey. The diuell himselfe could not pronounce a Title More hatefull to mine eare

Macb. No: nor more fearefull

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

Fight, and young Seyward slaine.

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

Alarums. Enter Macduffe.

Macd. That way the noise is: Tyrant shew thy face, If thou beest slaine, and with no stroake of mine, My Wife and Childrens Ghosts will haunt me still: I cannot strike at wretched Kernes, whose armes Are hyr'd to beare their Staues; either thou Macbeth, Or else my Sword with an vnbattered edge I sheath againe vndeeded. There thou should'st be, By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seemes bruited. Let me finde him Fortune, And more I begge not.

Exit. Alarums.

Enter Malcolme and Seyward.

Sey. This way my Lord, the Castles gently rendred: The Tyrants people, on both sides do fight, The Noble Thanes do brauely 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 see liues, the gashes Do better vpon them. Enter Macduffe.

Macd. Turne Hell-hound, turne

Macb. Of all men else I haue auoyded thee: But get thee backe, my soule 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.

Fight: Alarum

Macb. Thou loosest labour As easie 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. Dispaire 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 tels mee so; For it hath Cow'd my better part of man: And be these Iugling Fiends no more beleeu'd, That palter with vs in a double sence, That keepe the word of promise 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, Heere may you see the Tyrant

Macb. I will not yeeld To kisse the ground before young Malcolmes feet, 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 slaine.

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

Mal. I would the Friends we misse, were safe arriu'd

Sey. Some must go off: and yet by these I see, So great a day as this is cheapely bought

Mal. Macduffe is missing, and your Noble Sonne

Rosse. Your son my Lord, ha's paid a souldiers debt, He onely liu'd but till he was a man, The which no sooner had his Prowesse confirm'd In the vnshrinking station where he fought, But like a man he dy'de

Sey. Then he is dead? Rosse. 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? Rosse. I, on the Front

Sey. Why then, Gods Soldier be he: Had I as many Sonnes, as I haue haires, I would not wish 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 see thee compast with thy Kingdomes Pearle, That speake my salutation in their minds: Whose 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 Ministers 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 need full else That call's vpon vs, by the Grace of Grace, We will performe in measure, time, and place: So thankes to all at once, and to each one, Whom we inuite, to see vs Crown'd at Scone.

Flourish. Exeunt Omnes.

FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF MACBETH.

The Tragedie of Hamlet

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Barnardo and Francisco two Centinels.

Barnardo. Who'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 Francisco

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

Barn. Haue you had quiet Guard? Fran. Not a Mouse stirring

Barn. Well, goodnight. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, the Riuals 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 honest 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 peece of him

Bar. Welcome Horatio, welcome good Marcellus

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

Bar. I haue seene nothing

Mar. Horatio saies, 'tis but our Fantasie, And will not let beleefe take hold of him Touching this dreaded sight, 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. Tush, tush, 'twill not appeare

Bar. Sit downe a-while, And let vs once againe assaile your eares, That are so fortified against our Story, What we two Nights haue seene

Hor. Well, sit we downe, And let vs heare Barnardo speake of this

Barn. Last night of all, When yond same Starre that's Westward from the Pole Had made his course t' illume 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 same 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 fear & wonder Barn. It would be spoke too

Mar. Question it Horatio

Hor. What art thou that vsurp'st 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 Fantasie? What thinke you on't? Hor. Before my God, I might not this beleeue 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 th' Ambitious Norwey combatted: So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle He smot the sledded Pollax on the Ice. 'Tis strange

Mar. Thus twice before, and iust at this dead houre, With Martiall 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 erruption to our State

Mar. Good now sit downe, & tell me he that knowes Why this same strict and most obseruant Watch, So nightly toyles the subiect of the Land, And why such dayly Cast of Brazon Cannon And Forraigne Mart for Implements of warre: Why such impresse of Ship-wrights, whose 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 informe me? Hor. That can I, At least the whisper goes so: Our last King, Whose Image euen 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 so this side of our knowne world esteem'd him) Did slay 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 stood seiz'd on, to the Conqueror: Against the which, a Moity competent Was gaged by our King: which had return'd To the Inheritance of Fortinbras, Had he bin Vanquisher, as by the same Cou'nant And carriage of the Article designe, His fell to Hamlet. Now sir, young Fortinbras, Of vnimproued Mettle, hot and full, Hath in the skirts of Norway, heere and there, Shark'd vp a List of Landlesse Resolutes, For Foode and Diet, to some Enterprize That hath a stomacke in't: which is no other (And it doth well appeare vnto our State) But to recouer of vs by strong hand And termes Compulsatiue, those foresaid Lands So by his Father lost: and this (I take it) Is the maine Motiue of our Preparations, The Sourse of this our Watch, and the cheefe 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 ease, and grace to me; speak to me. If thou art priuy to thy Countries Fate (Which happily foreknowing may auoyd) Oh speake. Or, if thou hast vp-hoorded in thy life Extorted Treasure 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 Maiesticall To offer it the shew of Violence, For it is as the Ayre, invulnerable, And our vaine blowes, malicious Mockery

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

Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing Vpon a fearfull Summons. I haue heard, The Cocke that is the Trumpet to the day, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding 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 Obiect made probation

Mar. It faded on the crowing of the Cocke. Some sayes, that euer 'gainst that Season comes Wherein our Sauiours Birch 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 Russet mantle clad, Walkes o're the dew of yon high Easterne 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 needfull in our Loues, fitting our Duty? Mar. Let do't I pray, and I this morning know Where we shall finde him most conueniently.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Claudius King of Denmarke, Gertrude the Queene, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, and his Sister Ophelia, 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 greefe, and our whole Kingdome To be contracted in one brow of woe: Yet so farre hath Discretion fought with Nature, That we with wisest sorrow thinke on him, Together with remembrance of our selues. Therefore our sometimes Sister, now our Queene, Th' imperiall Ioyntresse of this warlike State, Haue we, as 'twere, with a defeated ioy, With one Auspicious, and one Dropping eye, With mirth in Funerall, and with Dirge in Marriage, In equall Scale weighing Delight and Dole Taken to Wife; nor haue we heerein barr'd Your better Wisedomes, which haue freely gone With this affaire along, for all our Thankes. Now followes, that you know young Fortinbras, Holding a weake supposall 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 fayl'd to pester vs with Message, Importing the surrender of those Lands Lost 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 writ To Norway, Vncle of young Fortinbras, Who Impotent and Bedrid, scarsely heares Of this his Nephewes purpose, to suppresse His further gate heerein. In that the Leuies, The Lists, and full proportions are all made Out of his subiect: 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 shew our duty

King. We doubt it nothing, heartily farewell.

Exit Voltemand and Cornelius.

And now Laertes, what's the newes with you? You told vs of some suite. What is't Laertes? You cannot speake of Reason to the Dane, And loose your voyce. What would'st thou beg Laertes, That shall not be my Offer, not thy Asking? The Head is not more Natiue to the Heart, The Hand more instrumentall to the Mouth, Then is the Throne of Denmarke to thy Father. What would'st 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 must confesse, 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 sayes Pollonius? Pol. He hath my Lord: I do beseech you giue him leaue to go

King. Take thy faire houre Laertes, time be thine, And thy best graces spend it at thy will: But now my Cosin Hamlet, and my Sonne? Ham. A little more then kin, and lesse then kinde

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 'tis common, all that liues must dye, Passing through Nature, to Eternity

Ham. I Madam, it is common

Queen. If it be; Why seemes 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 suspiration of forc'd breath, No, nor the fruitfull Riuer in the Eye, Nor the deiected 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 passeth 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 lost a Father, That Father lost, lost his, and the Suruiuer bound In filiall Obligation, for some terme To do obsequious Sorrow. But to perseuer In obstinate Condolement, is a course Of impious stubbornnesse. 'Tis vnmanly greefe, It shewes a will most incorrect to Heauen, A Heart vnfortified, a Minde impatient, An Vnderstanding simple, and vnschool'd: For, what we know must be, and is as common As any the most vulgar thing to sence, Why should we in our peeuish Opposition Take it to heart? Fye, 'tis a fault to Heauen, A fault against the Dead, a fault to Nature, To Reason 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 deerest 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 desire: And we beseech you, bend you to remaine Heere in the cheere and comfort of our eye, Our cheefest Courtier Cosin, and our Sonne

Qu. 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 vnforc'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.

Exeunt.

Manet Hamlet.

Ham. Oh that this too too solid Flesh, would melt, Thaw, and resolue it selfe into a Dew: Or that the Euerlasting had not fixt His Cannon 'gainst Selfe-slaughter. O God, O God! How weary, stale, flat, and vnprofitable Seemes to me all the vses of this world? Fie on't? Oh fie, fie, 'tis an vnweeded Garden That growes to Seed: Things rank, and grosse in Nature Possesse 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 Hiperion 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 encrease of Appetite had growne By what is fed on; and yet within a month? Let me not thinke on't: Frailty, thy name is woman. A little Month, or ere those 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 Reason 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, Barnardo, and Marcellus.

Hor. Haile to your Lordship

Ham. I am glad to see you well: Horatio, or I do forget my selfe

Hor. The same 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? Marcellus

Mar. My good Lord

Ham. I am very glad to see you: good euen Sir. But what in faith make you from Wittemberge? Hor. A truant disposition, good my Lord

Ham. I would not haue your Enemy say so; Nor shall you doe mine eare that violence, To make it truster of your owne report Against your selfe. I know you are no Truant: But what is your affaire in Elsenour? Wee'l teach you to drinke deepe, ere you depart

Hor. My Lord, I came to see your Fathers Funerall

Ham. I pray thee doe not mock me (fellow Student) I thinke it was to see 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 see 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 eare; 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 encountred. A figure like your Father, Arm'd at all points exactly, Cap a Pe, Appeares before them, and with sollemne march Goes slow and stately: By them thrice he walkt, By their opprest and feare-surprized eyes, Within his Truncheons length; whilst they bestil'd Almost to Ielly with the Act of feare, Stand dumbe and speake not to him. This to me In dreadfull secrecie 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 speake 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 selfe to motion, like as it would speake: But euen then, the Morning Cocke crew lowd; And at the sound it shrunke in hast away, And vanisht from our sight

Ham. Tis very strange

Hor. As I doe liue my honourd 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? Hor. While one with moderate hast might tell a hundred

All. Longer, longer

Hor. Not when I saw't

Ham. His Beard was grisly? no

Hor. It was, as I haue seene it in his life, A Sable Siluer'd

Ham. Ile watch to Night; perchance 'twill wake againe

Hor. I warrant you it will

Ham. If it assume my noble Fathers person, Ile speake to it, though Hell it selfe should gape And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, If you haue hitherto conceald this sight; Let it bee treble in your silence still: And whatsoeuer els shall hap to night, Giue 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.

Exeunt

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 sit still my soule; foule deeds will rise, Though all the earth orewhelm them to mens eies. Enter.

Scena Tertia

Enter Laertes and Ophelia.

Laer. My necessaries are imbark't; Farewell: And Sister, as the Winds giue Benefit, And Conuoy is assistant; doe not sleepe, But let me heare from you

Ophel. Doe you doubt that? Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his fauours, Hold it a fashion and a toy in Bloude; 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 cressant 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 cautell doth besmerch The vertue of his feare: but you must feare His greatnesse weigh'd, his will is not his owne; For hee himselfe is subiect to his Birth: Hee may not, as vnuallued persons doe, Carue for himselfe; for, on his choyce depends The sanctity and health of the whole 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 fits your wisedome so farre to beleeue it; As he in his peculiar Sect and force May giue his saying deed: which is no further, Then the maine voyce of Denmarke goes withall. Then weight what losse your Honour may sustaine, If with too credent eare you list his Songs; Or lose your Heart; or your chast Treasure open To his vnmastred importunity. Feare it Ophelia, feare it my deare Sister, And keepe within the reare of your Affection; Out of the shot and danger of Desire. The chariest Maid is Prodigall enough, If she vnmaske her beauty to the Moone: Vertue it selfe scapes not calumnious stroakes, 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 feare; Youth to it selfe rebels, though none else neere

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

Laer. Oh, feare 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 sits in the shoulder of your saile, And you are staid for there: my blessing with you; And these few Precepts in thy memory, See thou Character. Giue thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any vnproportion'd thoughts his Act: 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 vnhatch't, vnfledg'd Comrade. Beware Of entrance to a quarrell: but being in Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee. Giue euery man thine eare; but few thy voyce: Take each mans censure; but reserue 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 select and generous cheff in that. Neither a borrower, nor a lender be; For lone oft loses 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 please you, somthing touching the L[ord]. Hamlet

Polon. Marry, well bethought: Tis told me he hath very oft of late Giuen priuate time to you; and you your selfe Haue of your audience beene most free and bounteous. If it be so, as so tis put on me; And that in way of caution: I must tell you, You doe not vnderstand 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. Affection, puh. You speake like a greene Girle, Vnsifted in such perillous 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 starling. Tender your selfe more dearly; Or not to crack the winde of the poore Phrase, Roaming it thus, you'l tender me a foole

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

Polon. I, fashion 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 Giues the tongue vowes: these blazes, Daughter, Giuing more light then heate; extinct in both, Euen in their promise, as it is a making; You must not take for fire. For this time Daughter, Be somewhat scanter of your Maiden presence; 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 few, Ophelia, Doe not beleeue his vowes; for they are Broakers, Not of the eye, which their Inuestments show: But meere implorators 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 leisure, 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 drawes neere the season, Wherein the Spirit held his wont to walke. What does this meane my Lord? Ham. The King doth wake to night, and takes his rouse, Keepes wassels and the swaggering vpspring reeles, And as he dreines his draughts of Renish downe, The kettle Drum and Trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his Pledge

Horat. Is it a custome? Ham. I marry ist; And to my mind, though I am natiue heere, And to the manner borne: It is a Custome More honour'd in the breach, then the obseruance. Enter Ghost.

Hor. Looke my Lord, it comes

Ham. Angels and Ministers of Grace defend vs: Be thou a Spirit of health, or Goblin damn'd, Bring with thee ayres from Heauen, or blasts from Hell, Be thy euents wicked or charitable, Thou com'st in such a questionable shape That I will speake to thee. Ile call thee Hamlet, King, Father, Royall Dane: Oh, oh, answer me, Let me not burst in Ignorance; but tell Why thy Canoniz'd bones Hearsed in death, Haue burst their cerments, why the Sepulcher Wherein we saw thee quietly enurn'd, Hath op'd his ponderous and Marble iawes, To cast thee vp againe? What may this meane? That thou dead Coarse againe in compleat steele, Reuisits thus the glimpses of the Moone, Making Night hidious? And we fooles of Nature, So horridly to shake our disposition, With thoughts beyond thee; reaches of our Soules, Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we doe?

Ghost beckens Hamlet.

Hor. It beckons you to goe away with it, As if it some impartment did desire To you alone

Mar. Looke with what courteous action It wafts you to a more remoued ground: But doe not goe with it

Hor. No, by no meanes

Ham. It will not speake: then will I follow it

Hor. Doe not my Lord

Ham. Why, what should be the feare? I doe not set my life at a pins fee; And for my Soule, 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, That beetles o're his base into the Sea, And there assumes some other horrible forme, Which might depriue your Soueraignty of Reason, And draw you into madnesse thinke of it? Ham. It wafts 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 fate cries out, And makes each petty Artire in this body, As hardy as the Nemian Lions nerue: Still am I cal'd? Vnhand me Gentlemen: By Heau'n, Ile make a Ghost of him that lets me: I 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 issue will this come? Mar. Something is rotten in the State of Denmarke

Hor. Heauen will direct it

Mar. Nay, let's follow him.

Exeunt.

Enter Ghost and Hamlet.

Ham. Where wilt thou lead me? speak; Ile 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 reuenge, 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 fast 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 lightest word Would harrow vp thy soule, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like Starres, start from their Spheres, Thy knotty and combined lockes to part, And each particular haire to stand an end, Like Quilles vpon the fretfull Porpentine: But this eternall blason must not be To eares of flesh and bloud; list Hamlet, oh list, If thou didst euer thy deare Father loue

Ham. Oh Heauen! Gho. Reuenge his foule and most vnnaturall Murther

Ham. Murther? Ghost. Murther most foule, as in the best it is; But this most foule, strange, and vnnaturall

Ham. Hast, hast me to know it, That with wings as swift As meditation, or the thoughts of Loue, May sweepe to my Reuenge

Ghost. I finde thee apt, And duller should'st thou be then the fat weede That rots it selfe in ease, on Lethe Wharfe, Would'st thou not stirre in this. Now Hamlet heare: It's giuen out, that sleeping in mine Orchard, A Serpent stung me: so the whole eare of Denmarke, Is by a forged processe of my death Rankly abus'd: But know thou Noble youth, The Serpent that did sting thy Fathers life, Now weares his Crowne

Ham. O my Propheticke soule: mine Vncle? Ghost. I that incestuous, that adulterate Beast With witchcraft of his wits, hath Traitorous guifts. Oh wicked Wit, and Gifts, that haue the power So to seduce? Won to this shamefull Lust 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, euen with the Vow I made to her in Marriage; and to decline Vpon a wretch, whose Naturall gifts were poore To those of mine. But Vertue, as it neuer wil be moued, Though Lewdnesse court it in a shape of Heauen: So Lust, though to a radiant Angell link'd, Will sate it selfe in a Celestiall bed, & prey on Garbage. But soft, me thinkes I sent the Mornings Ayre; Briefe let me be: Sleeping within mine Orchard, My custome alwayes in the afternoone; Vpon my secure hower thy Vncle stole With iuyce of cursed Hebenon in a Violl, And in the Porches of mine eares did poure The leaperous Distilment; whose effect Holds such an enmity with bloud of Man, That swift as Quick-siluer, it courses through The naturall Gates and Allies of the body; And with a sodaine vigour it doth posset And curd, like Aygre droppings into Milke, The thin and wholsome blood: so did it mine; And a most instant Tetter bak'd about, Most 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 howsoeuer thou pursuest this Act, Taint not thy mind; nor let thy Soule contriue Against thy Mother ought; leaue her to heauen, And to those Thornes that in her bosome lodge, To pricke and sting her. Fare thee well at once; The Glow-worme showes the Matine to be neere, And gins to pale his vneffectuall Fire: Adue, adue, Hamlet: remember me. Enter.

Ham. Oh all you host of Heauen! Oh Earth; what els? And shall I couple Hell? Oh fie: 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 seate In this distracted Globe: Remember thee? Yea, from the Table of my Memory, Ile wipe away all triuiall fond Records, All sawes of Bookes, all formes, all presures past, That youth and obseruation coppied there; And thy Commandment all alone shall liue Within the Booke and Volume of my Braine, Vnmixt with baser matter; yes yes, by Heauen: Oh most pernicious woman! Oh Villaine, Villaine, smiling damned Villaine! My Tables, my Tables; meet it is I set 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.

Mar. Lord Hamlet

Hor. Heauen secure him

Mar. So be it

Hor. Illo, ho, ho, my Lord

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

Mar. How ist my Noble Lord? Hor. What newes, my Lord? Ham. Oh wonderfull! Hor. Good my Lord tell it

Ham. No you'l reueale it

Hor. Not I, my Lord, by Heauen

Mar. Nor I, my Lord

Ham. How say you then, would heart of man once think it? 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 desires shall point you: For euery man ha's businesse and desire, 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 they offend you heartily: Yes faith, heartily

Hor. There's no offence my Lord

Ham. Yes, by Saint Patricke, but there is my Lord, And much offence too, touching this Vision heere: It is an honest Ghost, that let me tell you: For your desire 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. Infaith my Lord, not I

Mar. Nor I my Lord: in faith

Ham. Vpon my sword

Marcell. We haue sworne my Lord already

Ham. Indeed, vpon my sword, Indeed

Gho. Sweare.

Ghost cries vnder the Stage.

Ham. Ah ha boy, sayest thou so. Art thou there truepenny? Come one you here this fellow in the selleredge 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 & vbique? Then wee'l shift for grownd, Come hither Gentlemen, And lay your hands againe vpon my sword, Neuer to speake of this that you haue heard: Sweare by my Sword

Gho. Sweare

Ham. Well said old Mole, can'st worke i'th' ground so fast? 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 Philosophy. But come, Here as before, neuer so helpe you mercy, How strange or odde so ere I beare my selfe; (As I perchance heereafter shall thinke meet To put an Anticke disposition on:) That you at such time seeing 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 list to speake; or there be and if there might, Or such ambiguous giuing out to note, That you know ought of me; this not to doe: So grace and mercy at your most neede helpe you: Sweare

Ghost. Sweare

Ham. Rest, rest perturbed Spirit: so Gentlemen, With all my loue I doe commend me to you; And what so poore a man as Hamlet is, May doe t' expresse his loue and friending to you, God willing shall not lacke: let vs goe in together, And still your fingers on your lippes I pray, The time is out of ioynt: Oh cursed spight, That euer I was borne to set it right. Nay, come let's goe together.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus.

Enter Polonius, and Reynoldo.

Polon. Giue him his money, and these notes Reynoldo

Reynol. I will my Lord

Polon. You shall doe maruels wisely: good Reynoldo, Before you visite him you make inquiry Of his behauiour

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 sonne: Come you more neerer Then your particular demands will touch it, Take you as 'twere some distant knowledge of him, And thus I know his father and his friends, And in part him. Doe you marke this Reynoldo? Reynol. I, very well my Lord

Polon. And in part him, but you may say not well; But if't be hee I meane, hees very wilde; Addicted so and so; and there put on him What forgeries you please; marry, none so ranke, As may dishonour him; take heed of that: But Sir, such wanton, wild, and vsuall slips, As are Companions noted and most knowne To youth and liberty

Reynol. As gaming my Lord

Polon. I, or drinking, fencing, swearing, Quarelling, drabbing. You may goe so farre

Reynol. My Lord that would dishonour him

Polon. Faith no, as you may season 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 seeme the taints of liberty; The flash and out-breake of a fiery minde, A sauagenes in vnreclaim'd bloud of generall assault

Reynol. But my good Lord

Polon. Wherefore should you doe this? Reynol. I my Lord, I would know that

Polon. Marry Sir, heere's my drift, And I belieue it is a fetch of warrant: You laying these slight sulleyes on my Sonne, As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i'th' working: Marke you your party in conuerse; him you would sound, Hauing euer seene. In the prenominate crimes, The youth you breath of guilty, be assur'd He closes with you in this consequence: Good sir, or so, or friend, or Gentleman. According to the Phrase and the Addition, 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 say somthing: where did I leaue? Reynol. At closes in the consequence: At friend, or so, and Gentleman

Polon. At closes in the consequence, I marry, He closes with you thus. I know the Gentleman, I saw him yesterday, or tother day; Or then or then, with such and such; and as you say, There was he gaming, there o'retooke in's Rouse, There falling out at Tennis; or perchance, I saw him enter such a house of saile; Videlicet, a Brothell, or so forth. See you now; Your bait of falshood, takes this Cape of truth; And thus doe we of wisedome and of reach With windlesses, and with assaies of Bias, By indirections finde directions out: So by my former Lecture and aduice Shall you my Sonne; you haue me, haue you not? Reynol. My Lord I haue

Polon. God buy you; fare you well

Reynol. Good my Lord

Polon. Obserue his inclination in your selfe

Reynol. I shall my Lord

Polon. And let him plye his Musicke

Reynol. Well, my Lord. Enter.

Enter Ophelia.

Polon. Farewell: How now Ophelia, what's the matter? Ophe. Alas my Lord, I haue beene so affrighted

Polon. With what, in the name of Heauen? Ophe. My Lord, as I was sowing in my Chamber, Lord Hamlet with his doublet all vnbrac'd, No hat vpon his head, his stockings foul'd, Vngartred, 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 loosed out of hell, To speake of horrors: he comes before me

Polon. Mad for thy Loue? Ophe. My Lord, I doe not know: but truly I do feare it

Polon. What said he? Ophe. He tooke me by the wrist, 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 fals to such perusall of my face, As he would draw it. Long staid he so, At last, a little shaking of mine Arme: And thrice his head thus wauing vp and downe; He rais'd a sigh, so pittious and profound, That it did seeme 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 seem'd to finde his way without his eyes, For out adores he went without their helpe; And to the last, bended their light on me

Polon. Goe with me, I will goe seeke the King, This is the very extasie of Loue, Whose violent property foredoes it selfe, And leads the will to desperate Vndertakings, As oft as any passion vnder Heauen, That does afflict our Natures. I am sorrie, 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 accesse to me

Pol. That hath made him mad. I am sorrie that with better speed and iudgement I had not quoted him. I feare he did but trifle, And meant to wracke thee: but beshrew my iealousie: 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, being kept close might moue More greefe to hide, then hate to vtter loue.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter King, Queene, Rosincrane, and Guildensterne Cum alijs.

King. Welcome deere Rosincrance and Guildensterne. Moreouer, that we much did long to see you, The neede we haue to vse you, did prouoke Our hastie sending. Something haue you heard Of Hamlets transformation: so 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' vnderstanding of himselfe, I cannot deeme of. I intreat you both, That being of so young dayes brought vp with him: And since so Neighbour'd to his youth, and humour, That you vouchsafe your rest heere in our Court Some little time: so by your Companies To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather So much as from Occasions you may gleane, That open'd lies within our remedie

Qu. 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 please 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 Visitation shall receiue such thankes As fits a Kings remembrance

Rosin. Both your Maiesties Might by the Soueraigne power you haue of vs, Put your dread pleasures, more into Command Then to Entreatie

Guil. We both obey, And here giue vp our selues, in the full bent, To lay our Seruices freely at your feete, To be commanded

King. Thankes Rosincrance, and gentle Guildensterne

Qu. Thankes Guildensterne and gentle Rosincrance. And I beseech you instantly to visit My too much changed Sonne. Go some of ye, And bring the Gentlemen where Hamlet is

Guil. Heauens make our presence and our practises Pleasant and helpfull to him. Enter.

Queene. Amen. Enter Polonius.

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

King. Thou still hast bin the father of good Newes

Pol. Haue I, my Lord? Assure 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 else this braine of mine Hunts not the traile of Policie, so sure As I haue vs'd to do: that I haue found The very cause of Hamlets Lunacie

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

Pol. Giue 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 tels me my sweet Queene, that he hath found The head and sourse 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, Voltumand, and Cornelius.

King. Well, we shall sift him. Welcome good Frends: Say Voltumand, what from our Brother Norwey? Volt. Most faire returne of Greetings, and Desires. 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 greeued, That so his Sicknesse, Age, and Impotence Was falsely borne in hand, sends out Arrests On Fortinbras, which he (in breefe) obeyes, Receiues rebuke from Norwey: and in fine, Makes Vow before his Vnkle, neuer more To giue th' assay of Armes against your Maiestie. Whereon old Norwey, ouercome with ioy, Giues him three thousand Crownes in Annuall Fee, And his Commission to imploy those Soldiers So leuied as before, against the Poleak: With an intreaty heerein further shewne, That it might please you to giue quiet passe 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 consider'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. Most welcome home.

Exit Ambass.

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

Qu. More matter, with lesse Art

Pol. Madam, I sweare I vse 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 let vs grant him then: and now remaines That we finde out the cause of this effect, Or rather say, the cause of this defect; For this effect defectiue, comes by cause, Thus it remaines, and the remainder thus. Perpend, I haue a daughter: haue, whil'st she is mine, Who in her Dutie and Obedience, marke, Hath giuen me this: now gather, and surmise.

The Letter.

To the Celestiall, and my Soules Idoll, the most beautifed 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 stay awhile, I will be faithfull. Doubt thou, the Starres are fire, Doubt, that the Sunne doth moue: Doubt Truth to be a Lier, But neuer Doubt, I loue. O deere Ophelia, I am ill at these Numbers: I haue not Art to reckon my grones; but that I loue thee best, oh most Best beleeue it. Adieu. Thine euermore 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 receiu'd his Loue? Pol. What do you thinke of me? King. As of a man, faithfull and Honourable

Pol. I wold faine proue so. But what might you think? When I had seene this hot loue on the wing, As I perceiued it, I must tell you that Before my Daughter told me what might you Or 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 vpon this Loue, with idle sight, What might you thinke? No, I went round to worke, And (my yong Mistris) thus I did bespeake 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 Resort, Admit no Messengers, receiue no Tokens: Which done, she tooke the Fruites of my Aduice, And he repulsed. A short Tale to make, Fell into a Sadnesse, then into a Fast, 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 'tis this? Qu. It may be very likely

Pol. Hath there bene such a time, I'de fain know that, That I haue possitiuely said, 'tis so, When it prou'd otherwise? King. Not that I know

Pol. Take this from this; if this be otherwise, If Circumstances leade 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 ha's 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 sadly the poore wretch Comes reading

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

Exit King & Queen.

Oh 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 Fishmonger

Pol. Not I my Lord

Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man

Pol. Honest, my Lord? Ham. I sir, 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 kissing Carrion- Haue you a daughter? Pol. I haue my Lord

Ham. Let her not walke i'thSunne: 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 daughter: yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a Fishmonger: he is farre gone, farre gone: and truly in my youth, I suffred much extreamity for loue: very neere this. Ile 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 Satyricall slaue saies 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 Honestie to haue it thus set downe: For you your 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 o'th' Ayre: How pregnant (sometimes) his Replies are? A happinesse, That often Madnesse hits on, Which Reason and Sanitie could not So prosperously be deliuer'd of. I will leaue him, And sodainely contriue the meanes of meeting Betweene him, and my daughter. My Honourable Lord, I will most humbly Take my leaue of you

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. These tedious old fooles

Polon. You goe to seeke my Lord Hamlet; there hee is. Enter Rosincran and Guildensterne.

Rosin. God saue you Sir

Guild. Mine honour'd Lord? Rosin. My most deare Lord? Ham. My excellent good friends? How do'st thou Guildensterne? Oh, Rosincrane; 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 liue about her waste, or in the middle of her fauour? Guil. Faith, her priuates, we

Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune? Oh, most true: 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, deserued at the hands of Fortune, that she sends you to Prison hither? Guil. Prison, my Lord? Ham. Denmark's a Prison

Rosin. Then is the World one

Ham. A goodly one, in which there are many Confines, Wards, and Dungeons; Denmarke 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 prison

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

Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, 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 Monarchs and out-stretcht Heroes the Beggers Shadowes: shall wee to th' Court: for, by my fey I cannot reason? Both. Wee'l wait vpon you

Ham. No such matter. I will not sort 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 thankes; 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 purpose; you were sent for; and there is a kinde confession in your lookes; which your modesties haue not craft enough to color, 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 consonancy 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, forgone all custome of exercise; and indeed, it goes so heauenly with my disposition; that this goodly frame the Earth, seemes to me a sterrill Promontory; this most excellent Canopy the Ayre, look you, this braue ore-hanging, this Maiesticall Roofe, fretted with golden fire: why, it appeares no other thing to mee, then a foule and pestilent congregation of vapours. 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 Angel? 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 smiling you seeme 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 aduenturous Knight shal vse his Foyle and Target: the Louer shall not sigh gratis, the humorous man shall end his part in peace: the Clowne shall make those laugh whose lungs 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 those you were wont to take delight in the Tragedians of the City

Ham. How chances it they trauaile? their residence both in reputation and profit was better both wayes

Rosin. I thinke their Inhibition comes by the meanes of the late Innouation? Ham. Doe they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the City? Are they so follow'd? Rosin. No indeed, they are not

Ham. How comes it? doe they grow rusty? Rosin. Nay, their indeauour keepes in the wonted pace; But there is Sir an ayrie of Children, little Yases, that crye out on the top of question; and are most tyrannically clap't for't: these are now the fashion, and so be-ratled the common Stages (so they call them) that many wearing Rapiers, are affraide of Goose-quils, and dare scarse come thither

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

Rosin. Faith there ha's bene much to do on both sides: and the Nation holds it no sinne, to tarre them to Controuersie. There was for a while, no mony bid for argument, vnlesse the Poet and the Player went to Cuffes in the Question

Ham. Is't possible? 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 those that would make mowes at him while my Father liued; giue twenty, forty, an hundred Ducates a peece, for his picture in Little. There is something in this more then Naturall, if Philosophie could finde it out.

Flourish for the Players.

Guil. There are the Players

Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcom to Elsonower: your hands, come: The appurtenance of Welcome, is Fashion and Ceremony. Let me comply with you in the Garbe, lest my extent to the Players (which I tell you must shew fairely 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 Prophesie. Hee comes to tell me of the Players. Mark it, you say right Sir: for a Monday morning 'twas so indeed

Pol. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you

Ham. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you. When Rossius 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 Tragedie, Comedie, Historie, Pastorall: Pastoricall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall: Tragicall-Historicall: Tragicall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall: Scene indiuidible: or Poem vnlimited. Seneca cannot be too heauy, nor Plautus too light, for the law of Writ, and the Liberty. These are the onely men

Ham. O Iephta Iudge of Israel, what a Treasure had'st thou? Pol. What a Treasure had he, my Lord? Ham. Why one faire Daughter, and no more, The which he loued passing well

Pol. Still on my Daughter

Ham. Am I not i'th' right old Iephta? Polon. If you call me Iephta my Lord, I haue a daughter that I loue passing well

Ham. Nay that followes not

Polon. What followes then, my Lord? Ha. Why, As by lot, God wot: and then you know, It came to passe, as most like it was: The first rowe of the Pons Chanson will shew you more. For looke where my Abridgements come. Enter foure or fiue Players.

Y'are welcome Masters, welcome all. I am glad to see thee well: Welcome good Friends. Oh my olde Friend? Thy face is valiant since I saw thee last: Com'st thou to beard me in Denmarke? What, my yong Lady and Mistris? Byrlady your Ladiship is neerer Heauen then when I saw you last, by the altitude of a Choppine. Pray God your voice like a peece of vncurrant Gold be not crack'd within the ring. Masters, you are all welcome: wee'l e'ne to't like French Faulconers, flie at any thing we see: wee'l haue a Speech straight. Come giue vs a tast of your quality: come, a passionate 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 aboue once, for the Play I remember pleas'd not the Million, 'twas Cauiarie to the Generall: but it was (as I receiu'd it, and others, whose iudgement in such matters, cried in the top of mine) an excellent Play; well digested in the Scoenes, set downe with as much modestie, as cunning. I remember one said, there was no Sallets in the lines, to make the matter sauory; nor no matter in the phrase, that might indite the Author of affectation, but cal'd it an honest method. One cheefe Speech in it, I cheefely lou'd, 'twas Aeneas 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 like 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 resemble When he lay couched in the Ominous Horse, Hath now this dread and blacke Complexion smear'd With Heraldry more dismall: Head to foote Now is he to take Geulles, horridly Trick'd With blood of Fathers, Mothers, Daughters, Sonnes, Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets, That lend a tyrannous, and damned light To their vilde Murthers, roasted in wrath and fire, And thus o're-sized with coagulate gore, With eyes like Carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus Olde Grandsire Priam seekes

Pol. Fore God, my Lord, well spoken, with good accent, and good discretion

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 driues, in Rage strikes wide: But with the whiffe and winde of his fell Sword, Th' vnnerued Father fals. Then senselesse Illium, Seeming to feele his blow, with flaming top Stoopes to his Bace, and with a hideous crash Takes Prisoner Pyrrhus eare. For loe, his Sword Which was declining on the Milkie head Of Reuerend Priam, seem'd i'th' Ayre to sticke: So as a painted Tyrant Pyrrhus stood, 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 As hush as death: Anon the dreadfull Thunder Doth rend the Region. So after Pyrrhus pause, A rowsed Vengeance sets him new a-worke, And neuer did the Cyclops hammers fall On Mars his Armours, forg'd for proofe Eterne, With lesse remorse then Pyrrhus bleeding sword Now falles on Priam. Out, out, thou Strumpet-Fortune, all you Gods, In generall Synod take away her power: Breake all the Spokes and Fallies from her wheele, 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 Iigge, 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 Bisson Rheume: A clout about that head, Where late the Diadem stood, and for a Robe About her lanke and all ore-teamed Loines, A blanket in th' Alarum of feare caught vp. Who this had seene, with tongue in Venome steep'd, 'Gainst Fortunes State, would Treason haue pronounc'd? But if the Gods themselues did see her then, When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport In mincing with his Sword her Husbands limbes, The instant Burst of Clamour that she made (Vnlesse things mortall moue them not at all) Would haue made milche the Burning eyes of Heauen, And passion 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 wel bestow'd. Do ye heare, let them be well vs'd: for they are the Abstracts and breefe 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 desart

Ham. Gods bodykins man, better. Vse euerie man after his desart, and who should scape whipping: vse them after your own Honor and Dignity. The lesse they deserue, the more merit is in your bountie. Take them in

Pol. Come sirs.

Exit Polon.

Ham. Follow him Friends: wee'l heare a play to morrow. Dost thou heare me old Friend, can you play the murther of Gonzago? Play. I my Lord

Ham. Wee'l ha't to morrow night. You could for a need study a speech of some dosen or sixteene lines, which I would set downe, and insert in't? Could ye not? Play. I my Lord

Ham. Very well. Follow that Lord, and looke you mock him not. My good Friends, Ile leaue you til night you are welcome to Elsonower? Rosin. Good my Lord.

Exeunt.

Manet Hamlet.

Ham. I so, God buy'ye: Now I am alone. Oh what a Rogue and Pesant slaue am I? Is it not monstrous that this Player heere, But in a Fixion, in a dreame of Passion, 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 Aspect, 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 passion That I haue? He would drowne 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 Rascall, peake Like Iohn a-dreames, vnpregnant of my cause, And can say nothing: No, not for a King, Vpon whose property, and most deere life, A damn'd defeate was made. Am I a Coward? Who calles me Villaine? breakes my pate a-crosse? Pluckes off my Beard, and blowes it in my face? Tweakes me by'th' Nose? giues me the Lye i'th' 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-Liuer'd, and lacke Gall To make Oppression bitter, or ere this, I should haue fatted all the Region Kites With this Slaues Offall, bloudy: a Bawdy villaine, Remorselesse, Treacherous, Letcherous, kindles villaine! Oh Vengeance! Who? What an Asse am I? I sure, this is most braue, 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 Cursing like a very Drab. A Scullion? Fye vpon't: Foh. About my Braine. I haue heard, that guilty Creatures sitting at a Play, Haue by the very cunning of the Scoene, Bene strooke so to the soule, that presently They haue proclaim'd their Malefactions. For Murther, though it haue no tongue, will speake With most myraculous Organ. Ile haue these Players, Play something like the murder of my Father, Before mine Vnkle. Ile obserue his lookes, Ile rent 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 T' assume a pleasing shape, yea and perhaps Out of my Weaknesse, and my Melancholly, As he is very potent with such Spirits, Abuses me to damne 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, Rosincrance, Guildenstern, and Lords.

King. And can you by no drift of circumstance Get from him why he puts on this Confusion: Grating so harshly all his dayes of quiet With turbulent and dangerous Lunacy

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

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

Qu. Did he receiue you well? Rosin. Most like a Gentleman

Guild. But with much forcing of his disposition

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

Qu. Did you assay 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 ioy To heare of it: They are about the Court, 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 Maiesties To heare, and see the matter

King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me To heare him so inclin'd. Good Gentlemen, Giue him a further edge, and driue 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 so bestow our selues, that seeing vnseene We may of their encounter frankely iudge, And gather by him, as he is behaued, If't be th' affliction of his loue, or no. That thus he suffers for

Qu. I shall obey you, And for your part Ophelia, I do wish That your good Beauties be the happy cause Of Hamlets wildenesse: so shall I hope your Vertues Will bring him to his wonted way againe, To both your Honors

Ophe. Madam, I wish 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 lonelinesse. We are oft too blame in this, 'Tis too much prou'd, that with Deuotions visage, And pious Action, we do surge o're The diuell himselfe

King. Oh 'tis true: How smart a lash that speech doth giue my Conscience? The Harlots Cheeke beautied with plaist'ring Art Is not more vgly to the thing that helpes it, Then is my deede, to my most painted word. Oh heauie burthen! Pol. I heare him comming, let's withdraw my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the Question: Whether 'tis Nobler in the minde to suffer The Slings and Arrowes of outragious Fortune, Or to take Armes against a Sea of troubles, And by opposing end them: to dye, to sleepe No more; and by a sleepe, to say we end The Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes That Flesh is heyre too? 'Tis a consummation Deuoutly to be wish'd. To dye to sleepe, To sleepe, perchance to Dreame; I, there's the rub, For in that sleepe of death, what dreames may come, When we haue shuffel'd off this mortall coile, Must giue vs pawse. 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 Contumely, 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 Quietus make With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardles beare To grunt and sweat vnder a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The vndiscouered Countrey, from whose Borne No Traueller returnes, Puzels the will, And makes vs rather beare those illes we haue, Then flye to others that we know not of. Thus Conscience does make Cowards of vs all, And thus the Natiue hew of Resolution Is sicklied o're, with the pale cast of Thought, And enterprizes of great pith and moment, With this regard their Currants turne away, And loose the name of Action. Soft you now, The faire Ophelia? Nimph, in thy Orizons Be all my sinnes 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 Remembrances of yours, That I haue longed long to re-deliuer. I pray you now, receiue them

Ham. No, no, I neuer gaue you ought

Ophe. My honor'd Lord, I know right well you did, And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd, As made the things more rich, then perfume left: Take these againe, for to the Noble minde Rich gifts wax poore, when giuers proue vnkinde. There my Lord

Ham. Ha, ha: Are you honest? Ophe. My Lord

Ham. Are you faire? Ophe. What meanes your Lordship? Ham. That if you be honest and faire, your Honesty should admit no discourse to your Beautie

Ophe. Could Beautie my Lord, haue better Comerce then your Honestie? Ham. I trulie: for the power of Beautie, will sooner transforme Honestie from what is, to a Bawd, then the force of Honestie can translate Beautie into his likenesse. This was sometime a Paradox, but now the time giues it proofe. I did loue you once

Ophe. Indeed my Lord, you made me beleeue so

Ham. You should not haue beleeued me. For vertue cannot so innocculate our old stocke, but we shall rellish of it. I loued you not

Ophe. I was the more deceiued

Ham. Get thee to a Nunnerie. Why would'st thou be a breeder of Sinners? I am my selfe indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better my Mother had not borne me. I am very prowd, reuengefull, Ambitious, with more offences at my becke, then I haue thoughts to put them in imagination, to giue them shape, or time to acte them in. What should such Fellowes as I do, crawling betweene Heauen and Earth. We are arrant Knaues all, beleeue none of vs. Goe thy wayes to a Nunnery. Where's your Father? Ophe. At home, my Lord

Ham. Let the doores be shut vpon him, that he may play the Foole no way, but in's owne house. Farewell

Ophe. O helpe him, you sweet Heauens

Ham. If thou doest Marry, Ile giue thee this Plague for thy Dowrie. Be thou as chast as Ice, as pure as Snow, thou shalt not escape Calumny. Get thee to a Nunnery. Go, Farewell. Or if thou wilt needs Marry, marry a fool: for Wise men know well enough, what monsters you make of them. To a Nunnery go, and quickly too. Farwell

Ophe. O heauenly Powers, restore him

Ham. I haue heard of your pratlings too wel enough. God has giuen you one pace, and you make your selfe another: you gidge, you amble, and you lispe, and nickname Gods creatures, and make your Wantonnesse, your Ignorance. Go too, Ile no more on't, it hath made me mad. I say, we will haue 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, Schollers: Eye, tongue, sword, Th' expectansie and Rose of the faire State, The glasse of Fashion, and the mould of Forme, Th' obseru'd of all Obseruers, quite, quite downe. Haue I of Ladies most deiect and wretched, That suck'd the Honie of his Musicke Vowes: Now see that Noble, and most Soueraigne Reason, Like sweet Bels iangled out of tune, and harsh, That vnmatch'd Forme and Feature of blowne youth, Blasted with extasie. Oh woe is me, T'haue seene what I 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 Forme a little, Was not like Madnesse. There's something in his soule? O're which his Melancholly sits on brood, And I do doubt the hatch, and the disclose Will be some danger, which to preuent 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 variable Obiects, shall expell This something setled matter in his heart: Whereon his Braines still beating, puts him thus From fashion of himselfe. What thinke you on't? Pol. It shall do well. But yet do I beleeue The Origin and Commencement of this greefe Sprung from neglected loue. How now Ophelia? You neede not tell vs, what Lord Hamlet saide, We heard it all. My Lord, do as you please, But if you hold it fit after the Play, Let his Queene Mother all alone intreat him To shew his Greefes: let her be round with him, And Ile be plac'd so, please you in the eare Of all their Conference. If she finde him not, To England send him: Or confine him where Your wisedome best shall thinke

King. It shall be so: 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 pronounc'd it to you trippingly on the Tongue: But if you mouth it, as many of your Players do, I had as liue the Town-Cryer had spoke my Lines: Nor do not saw the Ayre too much your hand thus, but vse all gently; for in the verie Torrent, Tempest, and (as I say) the Whirle-winde of Passion, you must acquire and beget a Temperance that may giue it Smoothnesse. O it offends mee to the Soule, to see a robustious Pery-wig-pated Fellow, teare a Passion to tatters, to verie ragges, to split the eares of the Groundlings: who (for the most part) are capeable of nothing, but inexplicable dumbe shewes, & noise: I could haue such a Fellow whipt for o're-doing Termagant: it outHerod's Herod. Pray you auoid it

Player. I warrant your Honor

Ham. Be not too tame neyther: but let your owne Discretion be your Tutor. Sute the Action to the Word, the Word to the Action, with this speciall obseruance: That you ore-stop not the modestie of Nature; for any thing so ouer-done, is fro[m] the purpose of Playing, whose end both at the first and now, was and is, to hold as 'twer the Mirrour vp to Nature; to shew 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 vnskilfull laugh, cannot but make the Iudicious greeue; The censure of the which One, must in your allowance o'reway a whole Theater of Others. Oh, there bee Players that I haue seene Play, and heard others praise, and that highly (not to speake it prophanely) that neyther hauing 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 abhominably

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

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

Exit Players.

Enter Polonius, Rosincrance, and Guildensterne.

How now my Lord, Will the King heare this peece of Worke? Pol. And the Queene too, and that presently

Ham. Bid the Players make hast.

Exit Polonius.

Will you two helpe to hasten them? Both. We will my Lord.

Exeunt.

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 Conuersation 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 feed & cloath thee. Why shold 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? Dost thou heare, Since my deere Soule was Mistris of my choyse, And could of men distinguish, her election Hath seal'd thee for her selfe. 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 those, Whose Blood and Iudgement are so well co-mingled, That they are not a Pipe for Fortunes finger. To sound what stop she please. Giue me that man, That is not Passions Slaue, and I will weare him In my hearts Core. I, in my Heart of heart, As I do thee. Something too much of this. There is a Play to night to before the King. One Scoene of it comes neere the Circumstance Which I haue told thee, of my Fathers death. I prythee, when thou see'st that Acte a-foot, Euen with the verie Comment of my Soule Obserue mine Vnkle: 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 foule 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'st this Play is Playing, And scape detecting, I will pay the Theft. Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrance, Guildensterne, and other Lords attendant with his Guard carrying Torches. Danish March. Sound a Flourish.

Ham. They are comming to the Play: I must be idle. Get you a place

King. How fares our Cosin Hamlet? Ham. Excellent Ifaith, of the Camelions dish: I eate the Ayre promise-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 enact? Pol. I did enact Iulius Caesar, I was kill'd i'th' Capitol: Brutus kill'd me

Ham. It was a bruite part of him, to kill so Capitall a Calfe there. Be the Players ready? Rosin. I my Lord, they stay vpon your patience

Qu. Come hither my good Hamlet, sit by me

Ha. No good Mother, here's Mettle more attractiue

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 betweene 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 Iigge-maker: what should a man do, but be merrie. For looke you how cheerefully 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 Ile haue a suite of Sables. Oh Heauens! dye two moneths ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's hope, a great mans Memorie, may out-liue his life halfe a yeare: But byrlady he must builde Churches then: or else shall he suffer not thinking on, with the Hoby-horsse, whose Epitaph is, For o, For o, the Hoby-horse is forgot.

Hoboyes play. The dumbe shew enters.

Enter a King and Queene, very louingly; the Queene embracing him. She kneeles, and makes shew of Protestation vnto him. He takes her vp, and declines his head vpon her neck. Layes him downe vpon a Banke of Flowers. She seeing him a-sleepe, leaues him. Anon comes in a Fellow, takes off his Crowne, kisses it, and powres poyson in the Kings eares, and Exits. The Queene returnes, findes the King dead, and makes passionate Action. The Poysoner, with some two or three Mutes comes in againe, seeming to lament with her. The dead body is carried away: The Poysoner Wooes the Queene with Gifts, she seemes loath and vnwilling awhile, but in the end, accepts his loue.

Exeunt.

Ophe. What meanes this, my Lord? Ham. Marry this is Miching Malicho, that meanes Mischeefe

Ophe. Belike this shew imports the Argument of the Play? Ham. We shall know by these Fellowes: the Players cannot keepe counsell, they'l tell all

Ophe. Will they tell vs what this shew meant? Ham. I, or any shew that you'l shew him. Bee not you asham'd to shew, hee'l 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 begge your hearing Patientlie

Ham. Is this a Prologue, or the Poesie of a Ring? Ophe. 'Tis briefe my Lord

Ham. As Womans loue. Enter King and his Queene.

King. Full thirtie times hath Phoebus Cart gon round, Neptunes salt Wash, 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 sacred Bands

Bap. 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 former state, That I distrust you: yet though I distrust, Discomfort you (my Lord) it nothing must: For womens Feare and Loue, holds quantitie, In neither ought, or in extremity: Now what my loue is, proofe hath made you know, And as my Loue is siz'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 liue 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 accurst, None wed the second, but who kill'd the first

Ham. Wormwood, Wormwood

Bapt. The instances that second Marriage moue, Are base respects of Thrift, but none of Loue. A second time, I kill my Husband dead, When second Husband kisses me in Bed

King. I do beleeue you. Think what now you speak: But what we do determine, oft we breake: Purpose is but the slaue to Memorie, Of violent Birth, but poore validitie: Which now like Fruite vnripe stickes on the Tree, But fall vnshaken, when they mellow bee. Most 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 purpose lose. The violence of other Greefe or Ioy, Their owne ennactors with themselues destroy: Where Ioy most Reuels, Greefe doth most lament; Greefe ioyes, Ioy greeues 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 else 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, Directly seasons him his Enemie. But orderly to end, where I begun, Our Willes and Fates do so contrary run, That our Deuices still are ouerthrowne, Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our owne. So thinke 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 repose 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 deepely sworne: Sweet, 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 protests to much me thinkes

Ham. Oh but shee'l keepe her word

King. Haue you heard the Argument, is there no Offence in't? Ham. No, no, they do but iest, poyson in iest, no Offence 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 Vienna: Gonzago is the Dukes name, his wife Baptista: you shall see anon: 'tis a knauish peece of worke: But what o'that? Your Maiestie, and wee that haue free soules, it touches vs not: let the gall'd iade winch: our withers are vnrung. Enter Lucianus.

This is one Lucianus nephew to the King

Ophe. You are a good Chorus, my Lord

Ham. I could interpret betweene you and your loue: if I could see the Puppets dallying

Ophe. You are keene my Lord, you are keene

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

Ophe. Still better and worse

Ham. So you mistake Husbands. Begin Murderer. Pox, leaue thy damnable Faces, and begin. Come, the croaking Rauen doth bellow for Reuenge

Lucian. Thoughts blacke, hands apt, Drugges fit, and Time agreeing: Confederate season, else, no Creature seeing: Thou mixture ranke, of Midnight Weeds collected, With Hecats Ban, thrice blasted, thrice infected, Thy naturall Magicke, and dire propertie, On wholsome life, vsurpe immediately.

Powres 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 see anon how the Murtherer gets the loue of Gonzago's wife

Ophe. The King rises

Ham. What, frighted with false fire

Qu. How fares my Lord? Pol. Giue o're the Play

King. Giue me some Light. Away

All. Lights, Lights, Lights.

Exeunt.

Manet Hamlet & Horatio.

Ham. Why let the strucken Deere go weepe, The Hart vngalled play: For some must watch, while some must sleepe; So runnes the world away. Would not this Sir, and a Forrest of Feathers, if the rest of my Fortunes turne Turke with me; with two Prouinciall Roses on my rac'd Shooes, get me a Fellowship in a crie of Players sir

Hor. Halfe a share

Ham. A whole one I, For thou dost know: Oh Damon deere, This Realme dismantled was of Ioue himselfe, And now reignes heere. A verie verie Paiocke

Hora. You might haue Rim'd

Ham. Oh good Horatio, Ile take the Ghosts word for a thousand pound. Did'st perceiue? Hora. Verie well my Lord

Ham. Vpon the talke of the poysoning? Hora. I did verie well note him. Enter Rosincrance and Guildensterne.

Ham. Oh, ha? Come some Musick. Come y Recorders: For if the King like not the Comedie, Why then belike he likes it not perdie. Come some Musicke

Guild. Good my Lord, vouchsafe me a word with you

Ham. Sir, a whole History

Guild. The King, sir

Ham. I sir, what of him? Guild. Is in his retyrement, maruellous distemper'd

Ham. With drinke Sir? Guild. No my Lord, rather with choller

Ham. Your wisedome should shew it selfe more richer, to signifie this to his Doctor: for 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 wildely from my affayre

Ham. I am tame Sir, pronounce

Guild. The Queene your Mother, in most great affliction 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 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 grasse 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 Compasse: 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. God 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' Masse, 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 Hell 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 massie 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 assay: Bow stubborne knees, and heart with strings of Steele, Be soft as sinewes of the new-borne Babe, All may be well. Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying, And now Ile doo't, and so he goes to Heauen, And so am I reueng'd: that would be scann'd, A Villaine killes my Father, and for that I his foule 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 season'd for his passage? No. Vp Sword, and know thou a more horrid hent When he is drunke asleepe: or in his Rage, Or in th' incestuous pleasure of his bed, At gaming, swearing, or about some acte That ha's no rellish of Saluation in't, Then trip him, that his heeles may kicke at Heauen, And that his Soule may be as damn'd and blacke As Hell, whereto it goes. My Mother stayes, This Physicke but prolongs thy sickly dayes. Enter.

King. My words flye vp, my thoughts remain below, Words without thoughts, neuer to Heauen go. Enter.

Enter Queene 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 screen'd, and stoode betweene Much heate, and him. Ile silence me e'ene heere: Pray you be round with him

Ham. within. Mother, mother, mother

Qu. Ile warrant you, feare me not. Withdraw, I heare him coming. Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Now Mother, what's the matter? Qu. Hamlet, thou hast thy 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. Whats the matter now? Qu. Haue you forgot 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 those to you that can speake

Ham. Come, come, and sit you downe, you shall not boudge: You go not till I set you vp a glasse, Where you may see 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 slaine.

Killes Polonius

Qu. Oh me, what hast thou done? Ham. Nay I know not, is it the King? Qu. Oh what a rash, 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, rash, intruding foole farewell, I tooke thee for thy Betters, take thy Fortune, Thou find'st to be too busie, is some danger. Leaue wringing of your hands, peace, sit you downe, And let me wring your heart, for so I shall If it be made of penetrable stuffe; If damned Custome haue not braz'd it so, That it is proofe and bulwarke against Sense

Qu. What haue I done, that thou dar'st wag thy tong, In noise so rude against me? Ham. Such an Act That blurres the grace and blush of Modestie, Cals Vertue Hypocrite, takes off the Rose From the faire forehead of an innocent loue, And makes a blister there. Makes marriage vowes As false as Dicers Oathes. Oh such a deed, As from the body of Contraction pluckes The very soule, and sweete Religion makes A rapsidie of words. Heauens face doth glow, Yea this solidity and compound masse, With tristfull visage as against the doome, Is thought-sicke at the act

Qu. Aye me; what act, that roares so lowd, & thunders in the Index

Ham. Looke heere vpon this Picture, and on this, The counterfet presentment of two Brothers: See what a grace was seated on his Brow, Hyperions curles, the front of Ioue himselfe, An eye like Mars, to threaten or command A Station, like the Herald Mercurie New lighted on a heauen-kissing hill: A Combination, and a forme indeed, Where euery God did seeme to set his Seale, To giue the world assurance of a man. This was your Husband. Looke you now what followes. Heere is your Husband, like a Mildew'd eare Blasting his wholsom breath. Haue you eyes? Could you on this faire Mountaine leaue to feed, And batten on this Moore? Ha? Haue you eyes? You cannot call it Loue: For at your age, The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble, And waites vpon the Iudgement: and what Iudgement Would step from this, to this? What diuell was't, That thus hath cousend you at hoodman-blinde? O Shame! where is thy Blush? Rebellious Hell, If thou canst mutine in a Matrons bones, To flaming youth, let Vertue be as waxe. And melt in her owne fire. Proclaime no shame, When the compulsiue Ardure giues the charge, Since Frost it selfe, as actiuely doth burne, As Reason panders Will

Qu. O Hamlet, speake no more. Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soule, And there I see such blacke and grained spots, As will not leaue their Tinct

Ham. Nay, but to liue In the ranke sweat of an enseamed bed, Stew'd in Corruption; honying and making loue Ouer the nasty Stye

Qu. Oh speake to me, no more, These words like Daggers enter in mine eares. No more sweet Hamlet

Ham. A Murderer, and a Villaine: A Slaue, that is not twentieth part the tythe Of your precedent Lord. A vice of Kings, A Cutpurse of the Empire and the Rule. That from a shelfe, the precious Diadem stole, And put it in his Pocket

Qu. No more. Enter Ghost.

Ham. A King of shreds and patches. Saue me; and houer o're me with your wings You heauenly Guards. What would your gracious figure? Qu. Alas he's mad

Ham. Do you not come your tardy Sonne to chide, That laps't in Time and Passion, lets go by Th' important acting of your dread command? Oh say

Ghost. Do not forget: this Visitation Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. But looke, Amazement on thy Mother sits; O step betweene her, and her fighting Soule, Conceit in weakest bodies, strongest workes. Speake to her Hamlet

Ham. How is it with you Lady? Qu. Alas, how is't with you? That you bend your eye on vacancie, And with their corporall ayre do hold discourse. Forth at your eyes, your spirits wildely peepe, And as the sleeping Soldiours in th' Alarme, Your bedded haire, like life in excrements, Start vp, and stand an end. Oh gentle Sonne, Vpon the heate and flame of thy distemper Sprinkle coole patience. Whereon do you looke? Ham. On him, on him: look you how pale he glares, His forme and cause conioyn'd, preaching to stones, Would make them capeable. Do not looke vpon me, Least with this pitteous action you conuert My sterne effects: then what I haue to do, Will want true colour; teares perchance for blood

Qu. To who do you speake this? Ham. Do you see nothing there? Qu. Nothing at all, yet all that is I see

Ham. Nor did you nothing heare? Qu. No, nothing but our selues

Ham. Why look you there: looke how it steals away: My Father in his habite, as he liued, Looke where he goes euen now out at the Portall. Enter.

Qu. This is the very coynage of your Braine, This bodilesse Creation extasie is very cunning in

Ham. Extasie? My Pulse as yours doth temperately keepe time, And makes as healthfull Musicke. It is not madnesse That I haue vttered; bring me to the Test And I the matter will re-word: which madnesse Would gamboll from. Mother, for loue of Grace, Lay not a flattering Vnction to your soule, That not your trespasse, but my madnesse speakes: It will but skin and filme the Vlcerous place, Whil'st ranke Corruption mining all within, Infects vnseene. Confesse your selfe to Heauen, Repent what's past, auoyd what is to come, And do not spred the Compost on the Weedes, To make them ranke. Forgiue me this my Vertue, For in the fatnesse of this pursie times, Vertue it selfe, of Vice must pardon begge, Yea courb, and woe, for leaue to do him good

Qu. Oh Hamlet, Thou hast cleft my heart in twaine

Ham. O throw away the worser part of it, And liue the purer with the other halfe. Good night, but go not to mine Vnkles bed, Assume a Vertue, if you haue it not, refraine to night, And that shall lend a kinde of easinesse To the next abstinence. Once more goodnight, And when you are desirous to be blest, Ile blessing begge of you. For this same Lord, I do repent: but heauen hath pleas'd it so, To punish me with this, and this with me, That I must be their Scourge and Minister. I will bestow him, and will answer well The death I gaue him: so againe, good night. I must be cruell, onely to be kinde; Thus bad begins and worse remaines behinde

Qu. What shall I do? Ham. Not this by no meanes that I bid you do: Let the blunt King tempt you againe to bed, Pinch Wanton on your cheeke, call you his Mouse, And let him for a paire of reechie kisses, Or padling in your necke with his damn'd Fingers, Make you to rauell all this matter out, That I essentially am not in madnesse, But made in craft. 'Twere good you let him know, For who that's but a Queene, faire, sober, wise, Would from a Paddocke, from a Bat, a Gibbe, Such deere concernings hide, Who would do so, No in despight of Sense and Secrecie, Vnpegge the Basket on the houses top: Let the Birds flye, and like the famous Ape To try Conclusions in the Basket, creepe And breake your owne necke downe

Qu. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath, And breath of life: I haue no life to breath What thou hast saide to me

Ham. I must to England, you know that? Qu. Alacke I had forgot: 'Tis so concluded on

Ham. This man shall set me packing: Ile lugge the Guts into the Neighbor roome, Mother goodnight. Indeede this Counsellor Is now most still, most secret, and most graue, Who was in life, a foolish prating Knaue. Come sir, to draw toward an end with you. Good night Mother. Exit Hamlet tugging in Polonius.

Enter King.

King. There's matters in these sighes. These profound heaues You must translate; Tis fit we vnderstand them. Where is your Sonne? Qu. Ah my good Lord, what haue I seene to night? King. What Gertrude? How do's Hamlet? Qu. Mad as the Seas, and winde, when both contend Which is the Mightier, in his lawlesse fit Behinde the Arras, hearing something stirre, He whips his Rapier out, and cries a Rat, a Rat, And in his brainish apprehension killes The vnseene good old man

King. Oh heauy deed: It had bin so with vs had we beene there: His Liberty is full of threats to all, To you your selfe, to vs, to euery one. Alas, how shall this bloody deede be answered? It will be laide to vs, whose prouidence Should haue kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt, This mad yong man. But so much was our loue, We would not vnderstand what was most fit, But like the Owner of a foule disease, To keepe it from divulging, let's it feede Euen on the pith of life. Where is he gone? Qu. To draw apart the body he hath kild, O're whom his very madnesse like some Oare Among a Minerall of Mettels base Shewes it selfe pure. He weepes for what is done

King. Oh Gertrude, come away: The Sun no sooner shall the Mountaines touch, But we will ship him hence, and this vilde deed, We must with all our Maiesty and Skill Both countenance, and excuse. Enter Ros. & Guild.

Ho Guildenstern: Friends both go ioyne you with some further ayde: Hamlet in madnesse hath Polonius slaine, And from his Mother Clossets hath he drag'd him. Go seeke him out, speake faire, and bring the body Into the Chappell. I pray you hast in this. Exit Gent.

Come Gertrude, wee'l call vp our wisest friends, To let them know both what we meane to do, And what's vntimely done. Oh come away, My soule is full of discord and dismay.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Safely stowed

Gentlemen within. Hamlet, Lord Hamlet

Ham. What noise? Who cals on Hamlet? Oh heere they come. Enter Ros. and Guildensterne.

Ro. What haue you done my Lord with the dead body? Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis Kinne

Rosin. Tell vs where 'tis, that we may take it thence, And beare it to the Chappell

Ham. Do not beleeue it

Rosin. Beleeue what? Ham. That I can keepe your counsell, and not mine owne. Besides, to be demanded of a Spundge, what replication should be made by the Sonne of a King

Rosin. Take you me for a Spundge, my Lord? Ham. I sir, that sokes vp the Kings Countenance, his Rewards, his Authorities (but such Officers do the King best seruice in the end. He keepes them like an Ape in the corner of his iaw, first mouth'd to be last swallowed, when he needes what you haue glean'd, it is but squeezing you, and Spundge you shall be dry againe

Rosin. I vnderstand you not my Lord

Ham. I am glad of it: a knauish speech sleepes in a foolish eare

Rosin. My Lord, you must tell vs where the body is, and go with vs to the King

Ham. The body is with the King, but the King is not with the body. The King, is a thing- Guild. A thing my Lord? Ham. Of nothing: bring me to him, hide Fox, and all after.

Exeunt.

Enter King.

King. I haue sent to seeke him, and to find the bodie: How dangerous is it that this man goes loose: Yet must not we put the strong Law on him: Hee's loued of the distracted multitude, Who like not in their iudgement, but their eyes: And where 'tis so, th' Offenders scourge is weigh'd But neerer the offence: to beare all smooth, and euen, This sodaine sending him away, must seeme Deliberate pause, diseases desperate growne, By desperate appliance are releeued, Or not at all. Enter Rosincrane.

How now? What hath befalne? Rosin. Where the dead body is bestow'd my Lord, We cannot get from him

King. But where is he? Rosin. Without my Lord, guarded to know your pleasure

King. Bring him before vs

Rosin. Hoa, Guildensterne? Bring in my Lord. Enter Hamlet and Guildensterne.

King. Now Hamlet, where's Polonius? Ham. At Supper

King. At Supper? Where? Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten, a certaine conuocation of wormes are e'ne at him. Your worm is your onely Emperor for diet. We fat all creatures else to fat vs, and we fat our selfe for Magots. Your fat King, and your leane Begger is but variable seruice to dishes, but to one Table that's the end

King. What dost thou meane by this? Ham. Nothing but to shew you how a King may go a Progresse through the guts of a Begger

King. Where is Polonius

Ham. In heauen, send thither to see. If your Messenger finde him not there, seeke him i'th other place your selfe: but indeed, if you finde him not this moneth, you shall nose him as you go vp the staires into the Lobby

King. Go seeke him there

Ham. He will stay till ye come

K. Hamlet, this deed of thine, for thine especial safety Which we do tender, as we deerely greeue For that which thou hast done, must send thee hence With fierie Quicknesse. Therefore prepare thy selfe, The Barke is readie, and the winde at helpe, Th' Associates tend, and euery thing at bent For England

Ham. For England? King. I Hamlet

Ham. Good

King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes

Ham. I see a Cherube that see's him: but come, for England. Farewell deere Mother

King. Thy louing Father Hamlet

Hamlet. My Mother: Father and Mother is man and wife: man & wife is one flesh, and so my mother. Come, for England.

Exit

King. Follow him at foote, Tempt him with speed aboord: Delay it not, Ile haue him hence to night. Away, for euery thing is Seal'd and done That else leanes on th' Affaire, pray you make hast. And England, if my loue thou holdst at ought, As my great power thereof may giue thee sense, Since yet thy Cicatrice lookes raw and red After the Danish Sword, and thy free awe Payes homage to vs; thou maist not coldly set Our Soueraigne Processe, which imports at full By Letters coniuring to that effect The present death of Hamlet. Do it England, For like the Hecticke in my blood he rages, And thou must cure me: Till I know 'tis done, How ere my happes, my ioyes were ne're begun.

Exit

Enter Fortinbras with an Armie.

For. Go Captaine, from me greet the Danish King, Tell him that by his license, Fortinbras Claimes the conueyance of a promis'd March Ouer his Kingdome. You know the Rendeuous: If that his Maiesty would ought with vs, We shall expresse our dutie in his eye, And let him know so

Cap. I will doo't, my Lord

For. Go safely on. Enter.

Enter Queene and Horatio.

Qu. I will not speake with her

Hor. She is importunate, indeed distract, her moode will needs be pittied

Qu. What would she haue? Hor. She speakes much of her Father; saies she heares There's trickes i'th' world, and hems, and beats her heart, Spurnes enuiously at Strawes, speakes things in doubt, That carry but halfe sense: Her speech is nothing, Yet the vnshaped vse of it doth moue The hearers to Collection; they ayme at it, And botch the words vp fit to their owne thoughts, Which as her winkes, and nods, and gestures yeeld them, Indeed would make one thinke there would be thought, Though nothing sure, yet much vnhappily

Qu. 'Twere good she were spoken with, For she may strew dangerous coniectures In ill breeding minds. Let her come in. To my sicke soule (as sinnes true Nature is) Each toy seemes Prologue, to some great amisse, So full of Artlesse iealousie is guilt, It spill's it selfe, in fearing to be spilt. Enter Ophelia distracted.

Ophe. Where is the beauteous Maiesty of Denmark

Qu. How now Ophelia? Ophe. How should I your true loue know from another one? By his Cockle hat and staffe, and his Sandal shoone

Qu. Alas sweet Lady: what imports this Song? Ophe. Say you? Nay pray you marke. He is dead and gone Lady, he is dead and gone, At his head a grasse-greene Turfe, at his heeles a stone. Enter King.

Qu. Nay but Ophelia

Ophe. Pray you marke. White his Shrow'd as the Mountaine Snow

Qu. Alas, looke heere my Lord

Ophe. Larded with sweet Flowers: Which bewept to the graue did not go, With true-loue showres

King. How do ye, pretty Lady? Ophe. Well, God dil'd you. They say the Owle was a Bakers daughter. Lord, wee know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your Table

King. Conceit vpon her Father

Ophe. Pray you let's haue no words of this: but when they aske you what it meanes, say you this: To morrow is S[aint]. Valentines day, all in the morning betime, And I a Maid at your Window, to be your Valentine. Then vp he rose, & don'd his clothes, & dupt the chamber dore, Let in the Maid, that out a Maid, neuer departed more

King. Pretty Ophelia

Ophe. Indeed la? without an oath Ile make an end ont. By gis, and by S[aint]. Charity, Alacke, and fie for shame: Yong men wil doo't, if they come too't, By Cocke they are too blame. Quoth she before you tumbled me, You promis'd me to Wed: So would I ha done by yonder Sunne, And thou hadst not come to my bed

King. How long hath she bin thus? Ophe. I hope all will be well. We must bee patient, but I cannot choose but weepe, to thinke they should lay him i'th' cold ground: My brother shall knowe of it, and so I thanke you for your good counsell. Come, my Coach: Goodnight Ladies: Goodnight sweet Ladies: Goodnight, goodnight. Enter.

King. Follow her close, Giue her good watch I pray you: Oh this is the poyson of deepe greefe, it springs All from her Fathers death. Oh Gertrude, Gertrude, When sorrowes comes, they come not single spies, But in Battalians. First, her Father slaine, Next your Sonne gone, and he most violent Author Of his owne iust remoue: the people muddied, Thicke and vnwholsome in their thoughts, and whispers For good Polonius death; and we haue done but greenly In hugger mugger to interre him. Poore Ophelia Diuided from her selfe, and her faire Iudgement, Without the which we are Pictures, or meere Beasts. Last, and as much containing as all these, Her Brother is in secret come from France, Keepes on his wonder, keepes himselfe in clouds, And wants not Buzzers to infect his eare With pestilent Speeches of his Fathers death, Where in necessitie of matter Beggard, Will nothing sticke our persons to Arraigne In eare and eare. O my deere Gertrude, this, Like to a murdering Peece in many places, Giues me superfluous death.

A Noise within.

Enter a Messenger.

Qu. Alacke, what noyse is this? King. Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the doore. What is the matter? Mes. Saue your selfe, my Lord. The Ocean (ouer-peering of his List) Eates not the Flats with more impittious haste Then young Laertes, in a Riotous head, Ore-beares your Officers, the rabble call him Lord, And as the world were now but to begin, Antiquity forgot, Custome not knowne, The Ratifiers and props of euery word, They cry choose we? Laertes shall be King, Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds, Laertes shall be King, Laertes King

Qu. How cheerefully on the false Traile they cry, Oh this is Counter you false Danish Dogges.

Noise within. Enter Laertes.

King. The doores are broke

Laer. Where is the King, sirs? Stand you all without

All. No, let's come in

Laer. I pray you giue me leaue

Al. We will, we will

Laer. I thanke you: Keepe the doore. Oh thou vilde King, giue me my Father

Qu. Calmely good Laertes

Laer. That drop of blood, that calmes Proclaimes me Bastard: Cries Cuckold to my Father, brands the Harlot Euen heere betweene the chaste vnsmirched brow Of my true Mother

King. What is the cause Laertes, That thy Rebellion lookes so Gyant-like? Let him go Gertrude: Do not feare our person: There's such Diuinity doth hedge a King, That Treason can but peepe to what it would, Acts little of his will. Tell me Laertes, Why thou art thus Incenst? Let him go Gertrude. Speake man

Laer. Where's my Father? King. Dead

Qu. But not by him

King. Let him demand his fill

Laer. How came he dead? Ile not be Iuggel'd with. To hell Allegeance: Vowes, to the blackest diuell. Conscience and Grace, to the profoundest Pit. I dare Damnation: to this point I stand, That both the worlds I giue to negligence, Let come what comes: onely Ile be reueng'd Most throughly for my Father

King. Who shall stay you? Laer. My Will, not all the world, And for my meanes, Ile husband them so well, They shall go farre with little

King. Good Laertes: If you desire to know the certaintie Of your deere Fathers death, if writ in your reuenge, That Soop-stake you will draw both Friend and Foe, Winner and Looser

Laer. None but his Enemies

King. Will you know them then

La. To his good Friends, thus wide Ile ope my Armes: And like the kinde Life-rend'ring Politician, Repast them with my blood

King. Why now you speake Like a good Childe, and a true Gentleman. That I am guiltlesse of your Fathers death, And am most sensible in greefe for it, It shall as leuell to your Iudgement pierce As day do's to your eye.

A noise within. Let her come in.

Enter Ophelia.

Laer. How now? what noise is that? Oh heate drie vp my Braines, teares seuen times salt, Burne out the Sence and Vertue of mine eye. By Heauen, thy madnesse shall be payed by waight, Till our Scale turnes the beame. Oh Rose of May, Deere Maid, kinde Sister, sweet Ophelia: Oh Heauens, is't possible, a yong Maids wits, Should be as mortall as an old mans life? Nature is fine in Loue, and where 'tis fine, It sends some precious instance of it selfe After the thing it loues

Ophe. They bore him bare fac'd on the Beer, Hey non nony, nony, hey nony: And on his graue raines many a teare, Fare you well my Doue

Laer. Had'st thou thy wits, and did'st perswade Reuenge, it could not moue thus

Ophe. You must sing downe a-downe, and you call him a-downe-a. Oh, how the wheele becomes it? It is the false Steward that stole his masters daughter

Laer. This nothings more then matter

Ophe. There's Rosemary, that's for Remembraunce. Pray loue remember: and there is Paconcies, that's for Thoughts

Laer. A document in madnesse, thoughts & remembrance fitted

Ophe. There's Fennell for you, and Columbines: ther's Rew for you, and heere's some for me. Wee may call it Herbe-Grace a Sundaies: Oh you must weare your Rew with a difference. There's a Daysie, I would giue you some Violets, but they wither'd all when my Father dyed: They say, he made a good end; For bonny sweet Robin is all my ioy

Laer. Thought, and Affliction, Passion, Hell it selfe: She turnes to Fauour, and to prettinesse

Ophe. And will he not come againe, And will he not come againe: No, no, he is dead, go to thy Death-bed, He neuer wil come againe. His Beard as white as Snow, All Flaxen was his Pole: He is gone, he is gone, and we cast away mone, Gramercy on his Soule. And of all Christian Soules, I pray God. God buy ye.

Exeunt. Ophelia

Laer. Do you see this, you Gods? King. Laertes, I must common with your greefe, Or you deny me right: go but apart, Make choice of whom your wisest Friends you will, And they shall heare and iudge 'twixt you and me; If by direct or by Colaterall hand They finde vs touch'd, we will our Kingdome giue, Our Crowne, our Life, and all that we call Ours To you in satisfaction. But if not, Be you content to lend your patience to vs, And we shall ioyntly labour with your soule To giue it due content

Laer. Let this be so: His meanes of death, his obscure buriall; No Trophee, Sword, nor Hatchment o're his bones, No Noble rite, nor formall ostentation, Cry to be heard, as 'twere from Heauen to Earth, That I must call in question

King. So you shall: And where th' offence is, let the great Axe fall. I pray you go with me.

Exeunt.

Enter Horatio, with an Attendant.

Hora. What are they that would speake with me? Ser. Saylors sir, they say they haue Letters for you

Hor. Let them come in, I do not know from what part of the world I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet. Enter Saylor.

Say. God blesse you Sir

Hor. Let him blesse thee too

Say. Hee shall Sir, and't please him. There's a Letter for you Sir: It comes from th' Ambassadours that was bound for England, if your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is.

Reads the Letter.

Horatio, When thou shalt haue ouerlook'd this, giue these Fellowes some meanes to the King: They haue Letters for him. Ere we were two dayes old at Sea, a Pyrate of very Warlicke appointment gaue vs Chace. Finding our selues too slow of Saile, we put on a compelled Valour. In the Grapple, I boorded them: On the instant they got cleare of our Shippe, so I alone became their Prisoner. They haue dealt with mee, like Theeues of Mercy, but they knew what they did. I am to doe a good turne for them. Let the King haue the Letters I haue sent, and repaire thou to me with as much hast as thou wouldest flye death. I haue words to speake in your eare, will make thee dumbe, yet are they much too light for the bore of the Matter. These good Fellowes will bring thee where I am. Rosincrance and Guildensterne, hold their course for England. Of them I haue much to tell thee, Farewell. He that thou knowest thine, Hamlet. Come, I will giue you way for these your Letters, And do't the speedier, that you may direct me To him from whom you brought them. Enter.

Enter King and Laertes.

King. Now must your conscience my acquittance seal, And you must put me in your heart for Friend, Sith you haue heard, and with a knowing eare, That he which hath your Noble Father slaine, Pursued my life

Laer. It well appeares. But tell me, Why you proceeded not against these feates, So crimefull, and so Capitall in Nature, As by your Safety, Wisedome, all things else, You mainly were stirr'd vp? King. O for two speciall Reasons, Which may to you (perhaps) seeme much vnsinnowed, And yet to me they are strong. The Queen his Mother, Liues almost by his lookes: and for my selfe, My Vertue or my Plague, be it either which, She's so coniunctiue to my life, and soule; That as the Starre moues not but in his Sphere, I could not but by her. The other Motiue, Why to a publike count I might not go, Is the great loue the generall gender beare him, Who dipping all his Faults in their affection, Would like the Spring that turneth Wood to Stone, Conuert his Gyues to Graces. So that my Arrowes Too slightly timbred for so loud a Winde, Would haue reuerted to my Bow againe, And not where I had arm'd them

Laer. And so haue I a Noble Father lost, A Sister driuen into desperate tearmes, Who was (if praises may go backe againe) Stood Challenger on mount of all the Age For her perfections. But my reuenge will come

King. Breake not your sleepes for that, You must not thinke That we are made of stuffe, so flat, and dull, That we can let our Beard be shooke with danger, And thinke it pastime. You shortly shall heare more, I lou'd your Father, and we loue our Selfe, And that I hope will teach you to imagine- Enter a Messenger.

How now? What Newes? Mes. Letters my Lord from Hamlet, This to your Maiesty: this to the Queene

King. From Hamlet? Who brought them? Mes. Saylors my Lord they say, I saw them not: They were giuen me by Claudio, he receiu'd them

King. Laertes you shall heare them: Leaue vs.

Exit Messenger

High and Mighty, you shall know I am set naked on your Kingdome. To morrow shall I begge leaue to see your Kingly Eyes. When I shall (first asking your Pardon thereunto) recount th' Occasions of my sodaine, and more strange returne. Hamlet. What should this meane? Are all the rest come backe? Or is it some abuse? Or no such thing? Laer. Know you the hand? Kin. 'Tis Hamlets Character, naked and in a Postscript here he sayes alone: Can you aduise me? Laer. I'm lost in it my Lord; but let him come, It warmes the very sicknesse in my heart, That I shall liue and tell him to his teeth; Thus diddest thou

Kin. If it be so Laertes, as how should it be so: How otherwise will you be rul'd by me? Laer. If so you'l not o'rerule me to a peace

Kin. To thine owne peace: if he be now return'd, As checking at his Voyage, and that he meanes No more to vndertake it; I will worke him To an exployt now ripe in my Deuice, Vnder the which he shall not choose but fall; And for his death no winde of blame shall breath, But euen his Mother shall vncharge the practice, And call it accident: Some two Monthes hence Here was a Gentleman of Normandy, I'ue seene my selfe, and seru'd against the French, And they ran well on Horsebacke; but this Gallant Had witchcraft in't; he grew into his Seat, And to such wondrous doing brought his Horse, As had he beene encorps't and demy-Natur'd With the braue Beast, so farre he past my thought, That I in forgery of shapes and trickes, Come short of what he did

Laer. A Norman was't? Kin. A Norman

Laer. Vpon my life Lamound

Kin. The very same

Laer. I know him well, he is the Brooch indeed, And Iemme of all our Nation

Kin. Hee mad confession of you, And gaue you such a Masterly report, For Art and exercise in your defence; And for your Rapier most especiall, That he cryed out, t'would be a sight indeed, If one could match you Sir. This report of his Did Hamlet so envenom with his Enuy, That he could nothing doe but wish and begge, Your sodaine comming ore to play with him; Now out of this

Laer. Why out of this, my Lord? Kin. Laertes was your Father deare to you? Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, A face without a heart? Laer. Why aske you this? Kin. Not that I thinke you did not loue your Father, But that I know Loue is begun by Time: And that I see in passages of proofe, Time qualifies the sparke and fire of it: Hamlet comes backe: what would you vndertake, To show your selfe your Fathers sonne indeed, More then in words? Laer. To cut his throat i'th' Church

Kin. No place indeed should murder Sancturize; Reuenge should haue no bounds: but good Laertes Will you doe this, keepe close within your Chamber, Hamlet return'd, shall know you are come home: Wee'l put on those shall praise your excellence, And set a double varnish on the fame The Frenchman gaue you, bring you in fine together, And wager on your heads, he being remisse, Most generous, and free from all contriuing, Will not peruse the Foiles? So that with ease, Or with a little shuffling, you may choose A Sword vnbaited, and in a passe of practice, Requit him for your Father

Laer. I will doo't. And for that purpose Ile annoint my Sword: I bought an Vnction of a Mountebanke So mortall, I but dipt a knife in it, Where it drawes blood, no Cataplasme so rare, Collected from all Simples that haue Vertue Vnder the Moone, can saue the thing from death, That is but scratcht withall: Ile touch my point, With this contagion, that if I gall him slightly, It may be death

Kin. Let's further thinke of this, Weigh what conuenience both of time and meanes May fit vs to our shape, if this should faile; And that our drift looke through our bad performance, 'Twere better not assaid; therefore this Proiect Should haue a backe or second, that might hold, If this should blast in proofe: Soft, let me see Wee'l make a solemne wager on your commings, I ha't: when in your motion you are hot and dry, As make your bowts more violent to the end, And that he cals for drinke; Ile haue prepar'd him A Challice for the nonce; whereon but sipping, If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck, Our purpose may hold there; how sweet Queene. Enter Queene.

Queen. One woe doth tread vpon anothers heele, So fast they'l follow: your Sister's drown'd Laertes

Laer. Drown'd! O where? Queen. There is a Willow growes aslant a Brooke, That shewes his hore leaues in the glassie streame: There with fantasticke Garlands did she come, Of Crow-flowers, Nettles, Daysies, and long Purples, That liberall Shepheards giue a grosser name; But our cold Maids doe Dead Mens Fingers call them: There on the pendant boughes, her Coronet weeds Clambring to hang; an enuious sliuer broke, When downe the weedy Trophies, and her selfe, Fell in the weeping Brooke, her cloathes spred wide, And Mermaid-like, a while they bore her vp, Which time she chaunted snatches of old tunes, As one incapable of her owne distresse, Or like a creature Natiue, and indued Vnto that Element: but long it could not be, Till that her garments, heauy with her drinke, Pul'd the poore wretch from her melodious buy, To muddy death

Laer. Alas then, is she drown'd? Queen. Drown'd, drown'd

Laer. Too much of water hast thou poore Ophelia, And therefore I forbid my teares: but yet It is our tricke, Nature her custome holds, Let shame say what it will; when these are gone The woman will be out: Adue my Lord, I haue a speech of fire, that faine would blaze, But that this folly doubts it. Enter.

Kin. Let's follow, Gertrude: How much I had to doe to calme his rage? Now feare I this will giue it start againe; Therefore let's follow.

Exeunt.

Enter two Clownes.

Clown. Is she to bee buried in Christian buriall, that wilfully seekes her owne saluation? Other. I tell thee she is, and therefore make her Graue straight, the Crowner hath sate on her, and finds it Christian buriall

Clo. How can that be, vnlesse she drowned her selfe in her owne defence? Other. Why 'tis found so

Clo. It must be Se offendendo, it cannot bee else: for heere lies the point; If I drowne my selfe wittingly, it argues an Act: and an Act hath three branches. It is an Act to doe and to performe; argall she drown'd her selfe wittingly

Other. Nay but heare you Goodman Deluer

Clown. Giue me leaue; heere lies the water; good: heere stands the man; good: If the man goe to this water and drowne himselfe; it is will he nill he, he goes; marke you that? But if the water come to him & drowne him; hee drownes not himselfe. Argall, hee that is not guilty of his owne death, shortens not his owne life

Other. But is this law? Clo. I marry is't, Crowners Quest Law

Other. Will you ha the truth on't: if this had not beene a Gentlewoman, shee should haue beene buried out of Christian Buriall

Clo. Why there thou say'st. And the more pitty that great folke should haue countenance in this world to drowne or hang themselues, more then their euen Christian. Come, my Spade; there is no ancient Gentlemen, but Gardiners, Ditchers and Graue-makers; they hold vp Adams Profession

Other. Was he a Gentleman? Clo. He was the first that euer bore Armes

Other. Why he had none

Clo. What, ar't a Heathen? how doth thou vnderstand the Scripture? the Scripture sayes Adam dig'd; could hee digge without Armes? Ile put another question to thee; if thou answerest me not to the purpose, confesse thy selfe- Other. Go too

Clo. What is he that builds stronger then either the Mason, the Shipwright, or the Carpenter? Other. The Gallowes maker; for that Frame outliues a thousand Tenants

Clo. I like thy wit well in good faith, the Gallowes does well; but how does it well? it does well to those that doe ill: now, thou dost ill to say the Gallowes is built stronger then the Church: Argall, the Gallowes may doe well to thee. Too't againe, Come

Other. Who builds stronger then a Mason, a Shipwright, or a Carpenter? Clo. I, tell me that, and vnyoake

Other. Marry, now I can tell

Clo. Too't

Other. Masse, I cannot tell. Enter Hamlet and Horatio a farre off.

Clo. Cudgell thy braines no more about it; for your dull Asse will not mend his pace with beating; and when you are ask't this question next, say a Graue-maker: the Houses that he makes, lasts till Doomesday: go, get thee to Yaughan, fetch me a stoupe of Liquor.

Sings.

In youth when I did loue, did loue, me thought it was very sweete: To contract O the time for a my behoue, O me thought there was nothing meete

Ham. Ha's this fellow no feeling of his businesse, that he sings at Graue-making? Hor. Custome hath made it in him a property of easinesse

Ham. 'Tis ee'n so; the hand of little Imployment hath the daintier sense

Clowne sings. But Age with his stealing steps hath caught me in his clutch: And hath shipped me intill the Land, as if I had neuer beene such

Ham. That Scull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: how the knaue iowles it to th' grownd, as if it were Caines Iaw-bone, that did the first murther: It might be the Pate of a Polititian which this Asse o're Offices: one that could circumuent God, might it not? Hor. It might, my Lord

Ham. Or of a Courtier, which could say, Good Morrow sweet Lord: how dost thou, good Lord? this might be my Lord such a one, that prais'd my Lord such a ones Horse, when he meant to begge it; might it not? Hor. I, my Lord

Ham. Why ee'n so: and now my Lady Wormes, Chaplesse, and knockt about the Mazard with a Sextons Spade; heere's fine Reuolution, if wee had the tricke to see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but to play at Loggets with 'em? mine ake to thinke on't

Clowne sings. A Pickhaxe and a Spade, a Spade, for and a shrowding-Sheete: O a Pit of Clay for to be made, for such a Guest is meete

Ham. There's another: why might not that bee the Scull of a Lawyer? where be his Quiddits now? his Quillets? his Cases? his Tenures, and his Tricks? why doe's he suffer this rude knaue now to knocke him about the Sconce with a dirty Shouell, and will not tell him of his Action of Battery? hum. This fellow might be in's time a great buyer of Land, with his Statutes, his Recognizances, his Fines, his double Vouchers, his Recoueries: Is this the fine of his Fines, and the recouery of his Recoueries, to haue his fine Pate full of fine Dirt? will his Vouchers vouch him no more of his Purchases, and double ones too, then the length and breadth of a paire of Indentures? the very Conueyances of his Lands will hardly lye in this Boxe; and must the Inheritor himselfe haue no more? ha? Hor. Not a iot more, my Lord

Ham. Is not Parchment made of Sheep-skinnes? Hor. I my Lord, and of Calue-skinnes too

Ham. They are Sheepe and Calues that seek out assurance in that. I will speake to this fellow: whose Graue's this Sir? Clo. Mine Sir: O a Pit of Clay for to be made, for such a Guest is meete

Ham. I thinke it be thine indeed: for thou liest in't

Clo. You lye out on't Sir, and therefore it is not yours: for my part, I doe not lye in't; and yet it is mine

Ham. Thou dost lye in't, to be in't and say 'tis thine: 'tis for the dead, not for the quicke, therefore thou lyest

Clo. 'Tis a quicke lye Sir, 'twill away againe from me to you

Ham. What man dost thou digge it for? Clo. For no man Sir

Ham. What woman then? Clo. For none neither

Ham. Who is to be buried in't? Clo. One that was a woman Sir; but rest her Soule, shee's dead

Ham. How absolute the knaue is? wee must speake by the Carde, or equiuocation will vndoe vs: by the Lord Horatio, these three yeares I haue taken note of it, the Age is growne so picked, that the toe of the Pesant comes so neere the heeles of our Courtier, hee galls his Kibe. How long hast thou been a Graue-maker? Clo. Of all the dayes i'th' yeare, I came too't that day that our last King Hamlet o'recame Fortinbras

Ham. How long is that since? Clo. Cannot you tell that? euery foole can tell that: It was the very day, that young Hamlet was borne, hee that was mad, and sent into England

Ham. I marry, why was he sent into England? Clo. Why, because he was mad; hee shall recouer his wits there; or if he do not, it's no great matter there

Ham. Why? Clo. 'Twill not be seene in him, there the men are as mad as he

Ham. How came he mad? Clo. Very strangely they say

Ham. How strangely? Clo. Faith e'ene with loosing his wits

Ham. Vpon what ground? Clo. Why heere in Denmarke: I haue bin sixeteene heere, man and Boy thirty yeares

Ham. How long will a man lie i'th' earth ere he rot? Clo. Ifaith, if he be not rotten before he die (as we haue many pocky Coarses now adaies, that will scarce hold the laying in) he will last you some eight yeare, or nine yeare. A Tanner will last you nine yeare

Ham. Why he, more then another? Clo. Why sir, his hide is so tan'd with his Trade, that he will keepe out water a great while. And your water, is a sore Decayer of your horson dead body. Heres a Scull now: this Scul, has laine in the earth three & twenty years

Ham. Whose was it? Clo. A whoreson mad Fellowes it was; Whose doe you thinke it was? Ham. Nay, I know not

Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad Rogue, a pour'd a Flaggon of Renish on my head once. This same Scull Sir, this same Scull sir, was Yoricks Scull, the Kings Iester

Ham. This? Clo. E'ene that

Ham. Let me see. Alas poore Yorick, I knew him Horatio, a fellow of infinite Iest; of most excellent fancy, he hath borne me on his backe a thousand times: And how abhorred my Imagination is, my gorge rises at it. Heere hung those lipps, that I haue kist I know not how oft. Where be your Iibes now? Your Gambals? Your Songs? Your flashes of Merriment that were wont to set the Table on a Rore? No one now to mock your own Ieering? Quite chopfalne? Now get you to my Ladies Chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thicke, to this fauour she must come. Make her laugh at that: prythee Horatio tell me one thing

Hor. What's that my Lord? Ham. Dost thou thinke Alexander lookt o'this fashion i'th' earth? Hor. E'ene so

Ham. And smelt so? Puh

Hor. E'ene so, my Lord

Ham. To what base vses we may returne Horatio. Why may not Imagination trace the Noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bunghole

Hor. 'Twere to consider: to curiously to consider so

Ham. No faith, not a iot. But to follow him thether with modestie enough, & likeliehood to lead it; as thus. Alexander died: Alexander was buried: Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make Lome, and why of that Lome (whereto he was conuerted) might they not stopp a Beere-barrell? Imperiall Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keepe the winde away. Oh, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, Should patch a Wall, t' expell the winters flaw. But soft, but soft, aside; heere comes the King. Enter King, Queene, Laertes, and a Coffin, with Lords attendant.

The Queene, the Courtiers. Who is that they follow, And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken, The Coarse they follow, did with disperate hand, Fore do it owne life; 'twas some Estate. Couch we a while, and mark

Laer. What Cerimony else? Ham. That is Laertes, a very Noble youth: Marke

Laer. What Cerimony else? Priest. Her Obsequies haue bin as farre inlarg'd. As we haue warrantie, her death was doubtfull, And but that great Command, o're-swaies the order, She should in ground vnsanctified haue lodg'd, Till the last Trumpet. For charitable praier, Shardes, Flints, and Peebles, should be throwne on her: Yet heere she is allowed her Virgin Rites, Her Maiden strewments, and the bringing home Of Bell and Buriall

Laer. Must there no more be done ? Priest. No more be done: We should prophane the seruice of the dead, To sing sage Requiem, and such rest to her As to peace-parted Soules

Laer. Lay her i'th' earth, And from her faire and vnpolluted flesh, May Violets spring. I tell thee (churlish Priest) A Ministring Angell shall my Sister be, When thou liest howling? Ham. What, the faire Ophelia? Queene. Sweets, to the sweet farewell. I hop'd thou should'st haue bin my Hamlets wife: I thought thy Bride-bed to haue deckt (sweet Maid) And not t'haue strew'd thy Graue

Laer. Oh terrible woer, Fall ten times trebble, on that cursed head Whose wicked deed, thy most Ingenious sence Depriu'd thee of. Hold off the earth a while, Till I haue caught her once more in mine armes:

Leaps in the graue.

Now pile your dust, vpon the quicke, and dead, Till of this flat a Mountaine you haue made, To o're top old Pelion, or the skyish head Of blew Olympus

Ham. What is he, whose griefes Beares such an Emphasis? whose phrase of Sorrow Coniure the wandring Starres, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, Hamlet the Dane

Laer. The deuill take thy soule

Ham. Thou prai'st not well, I prythee take thy fingers from my throat; Sir though I am not Spleenatiue, and rash, Yet haue I something in me dangerous, Which let thy wisenesse feare. Away thy hand

King. Pluck them asunder

Qu. Hamlet, Hamlet

Gen. Good my Lord be quiet

Ham. Why I will fight with him vppon this Theme. Vntill my eielids will no longer wag

Qu. Oh my Sonne, what Theame? Ham. I lou'd Ophelia; fortie thousand Brothers Could not (with all there quantitie of Loue) Make vp my summe. What wilt thou do for her? King. Oh he is mad Laertes, Qu. For loue of God forbeare him

Ham. Come show me what thou'lt doe. Woo't weepe? Woo't fight? Woo't teare thy selfe? Woo't drinke vp Esile, eate a Crocodile? Ile doo't. Dost thou come heere to whine; To outface me with leaping in her Graue? Be buried quicke with her, and so will I. And if thou prate of Mountaines; let them throw Millions of Akers on vs; till our ground Sindging his pate against the burning Zone, Make Ossa like a wart. Nay, and thou'lt mouth, Ile rant as well as thou

Kin. This is meere Madnesse: And thus awhile the fit will worke on him: Anon as patient as the female Doue, When that her Golden Cuplet are disclos'd; His silence will sit drooping

Ham. Heare you Sir: What is the reason that you vse me thus? I lou'd you euer; but it is no matter: Let Hercules himselfe doe what he may, The Cat will Mew, and Dogge will haue his day. Enter.

Kin. I pray you good Horatio wait vpon him, Strengthen your patience in our last nights speech, Wee'l put the matter to the present push: Good Gertrude set some watch ouer your Sonne, This Graue shall haue a liuing Monument: An houre of quiet shortly shall we see; Till then, in patience our proceeding be.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet and Horatio

Ham. So much for this Sir; now let me see the other, You doe remember all the Circumstance

Hor. Remember it my Lord? Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kinde of fighting, That would not let me sleepe; me thought I lay Worse then the mutines in the Bilboes, rashly, (And praise be rashnesse for it) let vs know, Our indiscretion sometimes serues vs well, When our deare plots do paule, and that should teach vs, There's a Diuinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will

Hor. That is most certaine

Ham. Vp from my Cabin My sea-gowne scarft about me in the darke, Grop'd I to finde out them; had my desire, Finger'd their Packet, and in fine, withdrew To mine owne roome againe, making so bold, (My feares forgetting manners) to vnseale Their grand Commission, where I found Horatio, Oh royall knauery: An exact command, Larded with many seuerall sorts of reason; Importing Denmarks health, and Englands too, With hoo, such Bugges and Goblins in my life, That on the superuize no leasure bated, No not to stay the grinding of the Axe, My head should be struck off

Hor. Ist possible? Ham. Here's the Commission, read it at more leysure: But wilt thou heare me how I did proceed? Hor. I beseech you

Ham. Being thus benetted round with Villaines, Ere I could make a Prologue to my braines, They had begun the Play. I sate me downe, Deuis'd a new Commission, wrote it faire, I once did hold it as our Statists doe, A basenesse to write faire; and laboured much How to forget that learning: but Sir now, It did me Yeomans seriuce: wilt thou know The effects of what I wrote? Hor. I, good my Lord

Ham. An earnest Coniuration from the King, As England was his faithfull Tributary, As loue betweene them, as the Palme should flourish, As Peace should still her wheaten Garland weare, And stand a Comma 'tweene their amities, And many such like Assis of great charge, That on the view and know of these Contents, Without debatement further, more or lesse, He should the bearers put to sodaine death, Not shriuing time allowed

Hor. How was this seal'd? Ham. Why, euen in that was Heauen ordinate; I had my fathers Signet in my Purse, Which was the Modell of that Danish Seale: Folded the Writ vp in forme of the other, Subscrib'd it, gau't th' impression, plac't it safely, The changeling neuer knowne: Now, the next day Was our Sea Fight, and what to this was sement, Thou know'st already

Hor. So Guildensterne and Rosincrance, go too't

Ham. Why man, they did make loue to this imployment They are not neere my Conscience; their debate Doth by their owne insinuation grow: 'Tis dangerous, when the baser nature comes Betweene the passe, and fell incensed points Of mighty opposites

Hor. Why, what a King is this? Ham. Does it not, thinkst thee, stand me now vpon He that hath kil'd my King, and whor'd my Mother, Popt in betweene th' election and my hopes, Throwne out his Angle for my proper life, And with such coozenage; is't not perfect conscience, To quit him with this arme? And is't not to be damn'd To let this Canker of our nature come In further euill

Hor. It must be shortly knowne to him from England What is the issue of the businesse there

Ham. It will be short, The interim's mine, and a mans life's no more Then to say one: but I am very sorry good Horatio, That to Laertes I forgot my selfe; For by the image of my Cause, I see The Portraiture of his; Ile count his fauours: But sure the brauery of his griefe did put me Into a Towring passion

Hor. Peace, who comes heere? Enter young Osricke.

Osr. Your Lordship is right welcome back to Denmarke

Ham. I humbly thank you Sir, dost know this waterflie? Hor. No my good Lord

Ham. Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a vice to know him: he hath much Land, and fertile; let a Beast be Lord of Beasts, and his Crib shall stand at the Kings Messe; 'tis a Chowgh; but as I saw spacious in the possession of dirt

Osr. Sweet Lord, if your friendship were at leysure, I should impart a thing to you from his Maiesty

Ham. I will receiue it with all diligence of spirit; put your Bonet to his right vse, 'tis for the head

Osr. I thanke your Lordship, 'tis very hot

Ham. No, beleeue mee 'tis very cold, the winde is Northerly

Osr. It is indifferent cold my Lord indeed

Ham. Mee thinkes it is very soultry, and hot for my Complexion

Osr. Exceedingly, my Lord, it is very soultry, as 'twere I cannot tell how: but my Lord, his Maiesty bad me signifie to you, that he ha's laid a great wager on your head: Sir, this is the matter

Ham. I beseech you remember

Osr. Nay, in good faith, for mine ease in good faith: Sir, you are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is at his weapon

Ham. What's his weapon? Osr. Rapier and dagger

Ham. That's two of his weapons; but well

Osr. The sir King ha's wag'd with him six Barbary horses, against the which he impon'd as I take it, sixe French Rapiers and Poniards, with their assignes, as Girdle, Hangers or so: three of the Carriages infaith are very deare to fancy, very responsiue to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of very liberall conceit

Ham. What call you the Carriages? Osr. The Carriages Sir, are the hangers

Ham. The phrase would bee more Germaine to the matter: If we could carry Cannon by our sides; I would it might be Hangers till then; but on sixe Barbary Horses against sixe French Swords: their Assignes, and three liberall conceited Carriages, that's the French but against the Danish; why is this impon'd as you call it? Osr. The King Sir, hath laid that in a dozen passes betweene you and him, hee shall not exceed you three hits; He hath one twelue for mine, and that would come to imediate tryall, if your Lordship would vouchsafe the Answere

Ham. How if I answere no? Osr. I meane my Lord, the opposition of your person in tryall

Ham. Sir, I will walke heere in the Hall; if it please his Maiestie, 'tis the breathing time of day with me; let the Foyles bee brought, the Gentleman willing, and the King hold his purpose; I will win for him if I can: if not, Ile gaine nothing but my shame, and the odde hits

Osr. Shall I redeliuer you ee'n so? Ham. To this effect Sir, after what flourish your nature will

Osr. I commend my duty to your Lordship

Ham. Yours, yours; hee does well to commend it himselfe, there are no tongues else for's tongue

Hor. This Lapwing runs away with the shell on his head

Ham. He did Complie with his Dugge before hee suck't it: thus had he and mine more of the same Beauty that I know the drossie age dotes on; only got the tune of the time, and outward habite of encounter, a kinde of yesty collection, which carries them through & through the most fond and winnowed opinions; and doe but blow them to their tryalls: the Bubbles are out

Hor. You will lose this wager, my Lord

Ham. I doe not thinke so, since he went into France, I haue beene in continuall practice; I shall winne at the oddes: but thou wouldest not thinke how all heere about my heart: but it is no matter

Hor. Nay, good my Lord

Ham. It is but foolery; but it is such a kinde of gain-giuing as would perhaps trouble a woman

Hor. If your minde dislike any thing, obey. I will forestall their repaire hither, and say you are not fit

Ham. Not a whit, we defie Augury; there's a speciall Prouidence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come: if it bee not to come, it will bee now: if it be not now; yet it will come; the readinesse is all, since no man ha's ought of what he leaues. What is't to leaue betimes? Enter King, Queene, Laertes and Lords, with other Attendants with Foyles, and Gauntlets, a Table and Flagons of Wine on it.

Kin. Come Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me

Ham. Giue me your pardon Sir, I'ue done you wrong, But pardon't as you are a Gentleman. This presence knowes, And you must needs haue heard how I am punisht With sore distraction? What I haue done That might your nature honour, and exception Roughly awake, I heere proclaime was madnesse: Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Neuer Hamlet. If Hamlet from himselfe be tane away: And when he's not himselfe, do's wrong Laertes, Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it: Who does it then? His Madnesse? If't be so, Hamlet is of the Faction that is wrong'd, His madnesse is poore Hamlets Enemy. Sir, in this Audience, Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd euill, Free me so farre in your most generous thoughts, That I haue shot mine Arrow o're the house, And hurt my Mother

Laer. I am satisfied in Nature, Whose motiue in this case should stirre me most To my Reuenge. But in my termes of Honor I stand aloofe, and will no reconcilement, Till by some elder Masters of knowne Honor, I haue a voyce, and president of peace To keepe my name vngorg'd. But till that time, I do receiue your offer'd loue like loue, And wil not wrong it

Ham. I do embrace it freely, And will this Brothers wager frankely play. Giue vs the Foyles: Come on

Laer. Come one for me

Ham. Ile be your foile Laertes, in mine ignorance, Your Skill shall like a Starre i'th' darkest night, Sticke fiery off indeede

Laer. You mocke me Sir

Ham. No by this hand

King. Giue them the Foyles yong Osricke, Cousen Hamlet, you know the wager

Ham. Verie well my Lord, Your Grace hath laide the oddes a'th' weaker side

King. I do not feare it, I haue seene you both: But since he is better'd, we haue therefore oddes

Laer. This is too heauy, Let me see another

Ham. This likes me well, These Foyles haue all a length.

Prepare to play.

Osricke. I my good Lord

King. Set me the Stopes of wine vpon that Table: If Hamlet giue the first, or second hit, Or quit in answer of the third exchange, Let all the Battlements their Ordinance fire, The King shal drinke to Hamlets better breath, And in the Cup an vnion shal he throw Richer then that, which foure successiue Kings In Denmarkes Crowne haue worne. Giue me the Cups, And let the Kettle to the Trumpets speake, The Trumpet to the Cannoneer without, The Cannons to the Heauens, the Heauen to Earth, Now the King drinkes to Hamlet. Come, begin, And you the Iudges beare a wary eye

Ham. Come on sir

Laer. Come on sir.

They play.

Ham. One

Laer. No

Ham. Iudgement

Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit

Laer. Well: againe

King. Stay, giue me drinke. Hamlet, this Pearle is thine, Here's to thy health. Giue him the cup,

Trumpets sound, and shot goes off.

Ham. Ile play this bout first, set by a-while. Come: Another hit; what say you? Laer. A touch, a touch, I do confesse

King. Our Sonne shall win

Qu. He's fat, and scant of breath. Heere's a Napkin, rub thy browes, The Queene Carowses to thy fortune, Hamlet

Ham. Good Madam

King. Gertrude, do not drinke

Qu. I will my Lord; I pray you pardon me

King. It is the poyson'd Cup, it is too late

Ham. I dare not drinke yet Madam, By and by

Qu. Come, let me wipe thy face

Laer. My Lord, Ile hit him now

King. I do not thinke't

Laer. And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience

Ham. Come for the third. Laertes, you but dally, I pray you passe with your best violence, I am affear'd you make a wanton of me

Laer. Say you so? Come on.

Play.

Osr. Nothing neither way

Laer. Haue at you now.

In scuffling they change Rapiers.

King. Part them, they are incens'd

Ham. Nay come, againe

Osr. Looke to the Queene there hoa

Hor. They bleed on both sides. How is't my Lord? Osr. How is't Laertes? Laer. Why as a Woodcocke To mine Sprindge, Osricke, I am iustly kill'd with mine owne Treacherie

Ham. How does the Queene? King. She sounds to see them bleede

Qu. No, no, the drinke, the drinke. Oh my deere Hamlet, the drinke, the drinke, I am poyson'd

Ham. Oh Villany! How? Let the doore be lock'd. Treacherie, seeke it out

Laer. It is heere Hamlet. Hamlet, thou art slaine, No Medicine in the world can do thee good. In thee, there is not halfe an houre of life; The Treacherous Instrument is in thy hand, Vnbated and envenom'd: the foule practise Hath turn'd it selfe on me. Loe, heere I lye, Neuer to rise againe: Thy Mothers poyson'd: I can no more, the King, the King's too blame

Ham. The point envenom'd too, Then venome to thy worke.

Hurts the King.

All. Treason, Treason

King. O yet defend me Friends, I am but hurt

Ham. Heere thou incestuous, murdrous, Damned Dane, Drinke off this Potion: Is thy Vnion heere? Follow my Mother.

King Dyes.

Laer. He is iustly seru'd. It is a poyson temp'red by himselfe: Exchange forgiuenesse with me, Noble Hamlet; Mine and my Fathers death come not vpon thee, Nor thine on me.

Dyes.

Ham. Heauen make thee free of it, I follow thee. I am dead Horatio, wretched Queene adiew, You that looke pale, and tremble at this chance, That are but Mutes or audience to this acte: Had I but time (as this fell Sergeant death Is strick'd in his Arrest) oh I could tell you. But let it be: Horatio, I am dead, Thou liu'st, report me and my causes right To the vnsatisfied

Hor. Neuer beleeue it. I am more an Antike Roman then a Dane: Heere's yet some Liquor left

Ham. As th'art a man, giue me the Cup. Let go, by Heauen Ile haue't. Oh good Horatio, what a wounded name, (Things standing thus vnknowne) shall liue behind me. If thou did'st euer hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicitie awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in paine, To tell my Storie.

March afarre off, and shout within.

What warlike noyse is this? Enter Osricke.

Osr. Yong Fortinbras, with conquest come fro[m] Poland To th' Ambassadors of England giues this warlike volly

Ham. O I dye Horatio: The potent poyson quite ore-crowes my spirit, I cannot liue to heare the Newes from England, But I do prophesie th' election lights On Fortinbras, he ha's my dying voyce, So tell him with the occurrents more and lesse, Which haue solicited. The rest is silence. O, o, o, o.

Dyes

Hora. Now cracke a Noble heart: Goodnight sweet Prince, And flights of Angels sing thee to thy rest, Why do's the Drumme come hither? Enter Fortinbras and English Ambassador, with Drumme, Colours, and Attendants.

Fortin. Where is this sight? Hor. What is it ye would see; If ought of woe, or wonder, cease your search

For. His quarry cries on hauocke. Oh proud death, What feast is toward in thine eternall Cell. That thou so many Princes, at a shoote, So bloodily hast strooke

Amb. The sight is dismall, And our affaires from England come too late, The eares are senselesse that should giue vs hearing, To tell him his command'ment is fulfill'd, That Rosincrance and Guildensterne are dead: Where should we haue our thankes? Hor. Not from his mouth, Had it th' abilitie of life to thanke you: He neuer gaue command'ment for their death. But since so iumpe vpon this bloodie question, You from the Polake warres, and you from England Are heere arriued. Giue order that these bodies High on a stage be placed to the view, And let me speake to th' yet vnknowing world, How these things came about. So shall you heare Of carnall, bloudie, and vnnaturall acts, Of accidentall iudgements, casuall slaughters Of death's put on by cunning, and forc'd cause, And in this vpshot, purposes mistooke, Falne on the Inuentors head. All this can I Truly deliuer

For. Let vs hast to heare it, And call the Noblest to the Audience. For me, with sorrow, I embrace my Fortune, I haue some Rites of memory in this Kingdome, Which are to claime, my vantage doth Inuite me, Hor. Of that I shall haue alwayes cause to speake, And from his mouth Whose voyce will draw on more: But let this same be presently perform'd, Euen whiles mens mindes are wilde, Lest more mischance On plots, and errors happen

For. Let foure Captaines Beare Hamlet like a Soldier to the Stage, For he was likely, had he beene put on To haue prou'd most royally: And for his passage, The Souldiours Musicke, and the rites of Warre Speake lowdly for him. Take vp the body; Such a sight as this Becomes the Field, but heere shewes much amis. Go, bid the Souldiers shoote.

Exeunt. Marching: after the which, a Peale of Ordenance are shot off.

FINIS. The tragedie of HAMLET, Prince of Denmarke.

The Tragedie of King Lear

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Kent, Gloucester, and Edmond.

Kent. I thought the King had more affected the Duke of Albany, then Cornwall

Glou. It did alwayes seeme so to vs: But now in the diuision of the Kingdome, it appeares not which of the Dukes hee valewes most, for qualities are so weigh'd, that curiosity in neither, can make choise of eithers moity

Kent. Is not this your Son, my Lord? Glou. His breeding Sir, hath bin at my charge. I haue so often blush'd to acknowledge him, that now I am braz'd too't

Kent. I cannot conceiue you

Glou. Sir, this yong Fellowes mother could; wherevpon she grew round womb'd, and had indeede (Sir) a Sonne for her Cradle, ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault? Kent. I cannot wish the fault vndone, the issue of it, being so proper