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  • Title: Hamlet (Quarto 2, 1604)
  • Textual editor: Eric Rasmussen
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-434-9

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Hamlet (Quarto 2, 1604)

    Prince of Denmarke.
    Get you a place.
    King. How fares our co sin Hamlet?
    Ham. Excellent yfaith,
    Of the Camelions di sh, I eate the ayre,
    1950 Promiscram'd, you cannot feede Capons so.
    King. I haue nothing with this aunswer Hamlet,
    These words are not mine.
    Ham. No, nor mine now my Lord.
    You playd once i'th Vniuer sitie you say,
    1955 Pol. That did I my Lord, and was accounted a good Actor,
    Ham. What did you enact?
    Pol. I did enact Iulius Cæ sar, I was kild i'th Capitall,
    Brutus kild mee.
    1960 Ham. It was a brute part of him to kill so capitall a calfe there,
    Be the Players readie?
    Ros. I my Lord, they stay vpon your patience.
    Ger. Come hether my deere Hamlet, sit by me.
    Ham. No good mother, heere's mettle more attractiue.
    1965 Pol. O ho, doe you marke that.
    Ham. Lady shall I lie in your lap?
    Ophe. No my Lord.
    1970 Ham. Doe you thinke I meant country matters?
    Oph. I thinke nothing my Lord.
    Ham. That's a fayre thought to lye betweene maydes legs.
    Oph. What is my Lord?
    Ham. Nothing.
    1975 Oph. You are merry my Lord.
    Ham. Who I?
    Oph. I my Lord.
    Ham. O God your onely Iigge-maker, what should a man do but
    be merry, for looke you how cheerefully my mother lookes, and my
    1980 father died within's two howres.
    Oph. Nay, tis twice two months my Lord.
    Ham. So long, nay then let the deule weare blacke, for Ile haue a
    sute of sables; o heauens, die two months agoe, and not forgotten yet,
    1985 then there's hope a great mans memorie may out-liue his life halfe a
    yeere, but ber Lady a mu st build Churches then, or els shall a suffer
    not thinking on, with the Hobby-horse, whose Epitaph is, for ô, for
    ô, the hobby-horse is forgot.
    Enter
    H.