“Belike this show imports the argument of the play,” said Ophelia, which indeed proved to be the case. Now the real players came on, who had to speak, and the action followed the same lines as the dumb show, the player Queen pouring forth boundless expressions of devotion to her husband. “Madam, how like you this play?” asked Hamlet presently, when a pause occurred. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” said the Queen. “Oh, but she’ll keep her word,” said Hamlet, with biting sarcasm. “Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in it?” asked the King uneasily. “No, no; they do but jest--_poison in jest_; no offence in the world,” returned Hamlet, looking at him with strange malice in his eyes. The King winced, but tried to appear unconcerned. “What do you call the play?” “‘The Mouse-trap.’ Marry, how? Tropically,” continued Hamlet, still in the same wild manner. “This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna; Gonzago is the Duke’s name, his wife Baptista. You shall see anon. ’Tis a knavish piece of work; but what of that? Your Majesty and we that have free souls, it touches us not; let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung.” The King grew more and more disturbed; he cast uneasy glances at the play, made a half-movement to rise, and checked himself. As the play went on, Hamlet could scarcely control his excitement. The players were now reciting the speeches he had written; the young Prince muttered the words with them in a rapid undertone. When one of the characters poured the poison into the player King’s ear, Hamlet burst out again into fierce speech, his voice rising shriller and higher. “He poisons him in the garden for his estate. His name’s Gonzago. The story is extant, and written in very choice Italian. You shall see anon how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago’s wife.” Hamlet, in his excitement, had dragged himself across the floor till he was at the foot of the throne. The King, seeing the mimic representation of his own crime, started up in guilty terror. “The King rises!” exclaimed Ophelia. “What! Frighted with false fire!” shouted Hamlet in bitter derision, and with a harsh cry of triumph he sprang to his feet, and flung himself into the throne which the King had left vacant. All was now confusion; the King and Queen hurriedly retired; their courtiers thronged after them, and Hamlet and Horatio were left alone in the deserted hall. Hamlet broke into a wild snatch of song: “Why, let the stricken deer go weep, The hart ungallèd play; For some must watch, while some must sleep, So runs the world away.” “O good Horatio, I’ll take the Ghost’s word for a thousand pounds. Didst perceive?” “Very well, my lord.” “Upon the talk of the poisoning?” “I did very well note him.”