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Ham.
Upon the talk of the poisoning?--

Hor.
I did very well note him.

Ham.
Ah, ha!--Come, some music! Come, the recorders!--
For if the king like not the comedy,
Why then, belike he likes it not, perdy.
Come, some music!

[Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.]

Guil.
Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.

Ham.
Sir, a whole history.

Guil.
The king, sir--

Ham.
Ay, sir, what of him?

Guil.
Is, in his retirement, marvellous distempered.

Ham.
With drink, sir?

Guil.
No, my lord; rather with choler.

Ham.
Your wisdom should show itself more richer to signify this to
the doctor; for me to put him to his purgation would perhaps
plunge him into far more choler.

Guil.
Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame, and start
not so wildly from my affair.

Ham.
I am tame, sir:--pronounce.

Guil.
The queen, your mother, in most great affliction of spirit,
hath sent me to you.

Ham.
You are welcome.

Guil.
Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed.
If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do
your mother's commandment: if not, your pardon and my return
shall be the end of my business.

Ham.
Sir, I cannot.

Guil.
What, my lord?

Ham.
Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseased: but, sir, such
answer as I can make, you shall command; or rather, as you say,
my mother: therefore no more, but to the matter: my mother, you
say,--

Ros.
Then thus she says: your behaviour hath struck her into
amazement and admiration.

Ham.
O wonderful son, that can so stonish a mother!--But is there no
sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration?

Ros.
She desires to speak with you in her closet ere you go to bed.

Ham.
We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any
further trade with us?

Ros.
My lord, you once did love me.

Ham.
And so I do still, by these pickers and stealers.

Ros.
Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? you do, surely,
bar the door upon your own liberty if you deny your griefs to
your friend.

Ham.
Sir, I lack advancement.

Ros.
How can that be, when you have the voice of the king himself
for your succession in Denmark?

Ham.
Ay, sir, but 'While the grass grows'--the proverb is something
musty.

[Re-enter the Players, with recorders.]

O, the recorders:--let me see one.--To withdraw with you:--why do
you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me
into a toil?

Guil.
O my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly.

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

Guil.
My lord, I cannot.

Ham.
I pray you.

Guil.
Believe me, I cannot.

Ham.
I do beseech you.

Guil.
I know, no touch of it, my lord.

Ham.
'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages with your
finger and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will

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