_Ham._ _O, Jephthah, judge of Israel_,--what a treasure hadst thou!
_Ham._ Why,--_One fair daughter, and no more, The which he loved passing well._
_Ham._ Am I not i'the right, old Jephthah?
_Pol._ If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I love passing well.
_Ham._ Why, _As by lot, God wot_,[51] and then, you know, _It came to pass, As most like it was_,--The first row of the pious Chanson[52] will show you more; for look, my abridgment comes.[53]
_Enter Four or Five_ Players (L.H.)--POLONIUS _crosses behind_ HAMLET _to_ R.H.
You are welcome, masters; welcome, all: O, old friend! Why, thy face is valanced[54] since I saw thee last; Com'st thou to beard me[55] in Denmark?--What, my young lady and mistress. By-'r-lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last, by the altitude of a chopine.[56] You are welcome. We'll e'en to't like French falconers,[57] fly at anything we see: We'll have a speech straight: Come, give us a taste of your quality;[58] come, a passionate speech.
_Ham._ I heard thee speak me a speech once,--but it was never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas caviare to the general:[59] but it was an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cunning.[60] One speech in it I chiefly loved; 'twas Æneas' tale to Dido; and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of Priam's slaughter: If it live in your memory, begin at this line; let me see, let me see;--
_The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast_,--'tis not so: it begins with Pyrrhus:
_The rugged Pyrrhus,--he, whose sable arms_, _Black as his purpose, did the night resemble_, _Old grandsire Priam seeks._
_Pol._ (R.) 'Fore Heaven, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good discretion.
_1st Play._ (L.) _Anon he finds him Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword, Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls, Repugnant to command: Unequal match'd, Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes wide; But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword[61] The unnerved father falls. But, as we often see, against some storm, A silence in the heavens, the rack[62] stand still, The bold wind speechless, and the orb below As hush as death; anon the dreadful thunder Doth rend the region; So, after Pyrrhus' pause, A roused vengeance sets him new a work; And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall On Mars's armour, forg'd for proof eterne, With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword Now falls on Priam.-- Out, out, thou fickle Fortune!_