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The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Dread my lord,
Polonius ? Pol. He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave, By laboursome petition; and, at last, Upon his will I seald my hard consent : I do beseecb you, give him leave to go.
King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes ; time be thine, And thy best graces spend it at thy will! But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,Ham. A little more than kin, and less than kind.
[Aside. King. How is it that the clouds still hang on you? Ham. Not so, my lord, I am too much i' the sun.
Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nightly colour oft,
Ham. Ay, madam, it is common.
If it be,
a The King has called him “my cousin Hamlet.” He says, in a suppressed tone, “A little more than kin”-a little more than cousin. The King adds, “and my son." Hamlet says, “less than kind;"-I am little of the same nature with you. Kind is constantly used in the sense of nature by Ben Jonson and other contemporaries of Shakspere.
Ham. Seems, madam! nay, it is ; I know not seems.
* Obsequious sorrow-funereal sorrow,- from obsequies.
Than that which dearest father bears his son,
Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet; I pray thee, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg.
Ham. I shall in all my best obey you, madam.
King. Why, 't is a loving and a fair reply; Be as ourself in Denmark.–Madam, come; This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof, No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day, But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell; And the king's rouse the heavens shall bruit again, Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away. [Ex. King, QUEEN, Lords, &c., Pol., and LAERTES.
Ham. O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seems to me all the uses of this world! Fye on 't! O fye! 't is an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank, and gross in nature, Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead !-nay, not so much, not two; So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother, That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on : And yet, within a month, Let me not think on 't;-Frailty, thy name is woman!
A little month; or ere those shoes were old,
Enter Horario, Bernardo, and MARCELLUS.
I am glad to see you well : Horatio,—or I do forget myself.
Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. Ham. Sir, my good friend; I'll 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 even, sir,But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg ?
Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord.
Ham. I would not have your enemy say so;
a Discourse of reason is the discursion of reason-the faculty of pursuing a train of thought, or of passing from one thought
Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.
Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student; I think it was to see my mother's wedding.
Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.
Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,
Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
The king my father!
For heaven's love, let me hear. Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen, Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch, In the dead waste and middle of the night, Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father, Arm'd at all points, exactly, cap-à-pé, Appears before them, and, with solemn march, Goes slow and stately by them : thrice he walk’d, By their oppress'd and fear-surprized eyes, Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, bestill'd Almost to jelly with the act of fear,
a Thrift, thrift. It was a frugal arrangement,--a thrifty proceeding.