Transcription

Hamlet to Guil -- Why look you now how unworthy a thing you make of me? you would play upon me: You would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery, you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass; & there is much music, excellent voice in this little organ, yet, cannot you make it speak. Why do you think I am easier to be play'd on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will Tho' you can fret me, you cannot play upon me. -- Hamlet alone 'Tis now the very witching time of night When church yards yawn, & hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood And do such business, as the bitter day Would quake to look on. - soft, - now to my Mother - Oh heart lose not thy nature; - let not ever The Soul of Nero enter this firm bosom: Let me be cruel, not unnatural;