There are the players
There are the players.
Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore.
Your hands, come then. Th’ appurtenance of welcome
is fashion and ceremony. Let me comply
with you in this garb, lest my extent to the players,
which, I tell you, must show fairly outwards, should
more appear like entertainment than yours. You are
welcome. But my uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived.
The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy,
history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral,
scene individable, or poem unlimited.
In what, my dear lord?
I am but mad north-north-west. When the
wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.
Well be with you, gentlemen.
Hark you, Guildenstern, and you too—at
each ear a hearer! That great baby you see there is
not yet out of his swaddling clouts.
Haply he is the second time come to
them, for they say an old man is twice a child.
I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the
players; mark it.—You say right, sir, a Monday
morning, ’twas then indeed.
My lord, I have news to tell you.
My lord, I have news to tell you: when Roscius
was an actor in Rome—
The actors are come hither, my lord.
Upon my honor—
Then came each actor on his ass.
c Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor
Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty,
these are the only men.
O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure
What a treasure had he, my lord?
One fair daughter, and no more,
The which he lovèd passing well.
Still on my daughter.
Am I not i’ th’ right, old Jephthah?
If you call me “Jephthah,” my lord: I have a
daughter that I love passing well.
Nay, that follows not.
What follows then, my lord?
As by lot, God wot
and then, you know,
It came to pass, as most like it was—
the first row of the pious chanson will show you
more, for look where my abridgment comes.