_Ham._ No by my faith mother, heere's a mettle more attractive: Lady will you giue me leaue, and so forth: To lay my head in your lappe? _Ofel._ No my lord. _Ham._ Vpon your lap, what do you thinke I meant contrary matters? 85 _Enter in a Dumbe Shew, the King and the Queene, he sits downe in an Arbor, she leaues him: Then enters Lucianus with poyson in a Viall, and powres it in his eares, and goes away: Then the Queene commeth and findes him dead: and goes away with the other._ _Ofel._ What meanes this my Lord? _Enter the Prologue._ _Ham._ This is myching Mallico, that meanes my chiefe. _Ofel._ What doth this meane my lord? _Ham._ You shall heare anone, this fellow will tell you all. _Ofel._ Will he tell vs what this shew meanes? 90 _Ham._ I, or any shew you'le shew him, Be not afeard to shew, hee'le not be afeard to tell: O these Players cannot keepe counsell, thei'le tell all. _Prol._ For vs, and for our Tragedie, Heere stowping to your clemencie, 95 We begge your hearing patiently. _Ham._ I'st a prologue, or a poesie for a ring? _Ofel._ T'is short my Lord. _Ham._ As womens loue. _Enter the Duke and Dutchesse._ _Duke_ Full fortie yeares are past, their date is gone, 100 Since happy time ioyn'd both our hearts as one: And now the blood that fill'd my youthfull veines, Runnes weakely in their pipes, and all the straines Of musicke, which whilome pleasde mine eare, Is now a burthen that Age cannot beare: 105 And therefore sweete Nature must pay his due, To heauen must I, and leaue the earth with you. _Dutchesse_ O say not so, lest that you kill my heart, When death takes you, let life from me depart. _Duke_ Content thy selfe, when ended is my date, 110 Thou maist (perchance) haue a more noble mate, More wise, more youthfull, and one. _Dutchesse_ O speake no more, for then I am accurst, None weds the second, but she kils the first: A second time I kill my Lord that's dead, 115 When second husband kisses me in bed. _Ham._ O wormewood, wormewood! _Duke_ I doe beleeue you sweete, what now you speake, But what we doe determine oft we breake, For our demises stil are ouerthrowne, 120 Our thoughts are ours, their end's none of our owne: So thinke you will no second husband wed, But die thy thoughts, when thy first Lord is dead. _Dutchesse_ Both here and there pursue me lasting strife, I once a widdow, euer I be wife. 125 _Ham._ If she should breake now. _Duke_ T'is deepely sworne, sweete leaue me here a while, My spirites growe dull, and faine I would beguile the tedious time with sleepe.