William Shakespeare: Hamlet, Prince of Denmark

ACT II. 2. Scene II. A room in the Castle. (continued)

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; but it was,--as I
received it, and others, whose judgments in such matters cried in
the top of mine,--an excellent play, well digested in the scenes,
set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember, one said
there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter savoury,
nor no matter in the phrase that might indite the author of
affectation; but called it an honest method, as wholesome as
sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One speech in it
I chiefly loved: 'twas AEneas' 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 th' Hyrcanian beast,--

it is not so:-- it begins with Pyrrhus:--

  'The rugged Pyrrhus,--he whose sable arms,
   Black as his purpose,did the night resemble
   When he lay couched in the ominous horse,--
   Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd
   With heraldry more dismal; head to foot
   Now is be total gules; horridly trick'd
   With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,
   Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets,
   That lend a tyrannous and a damned light
   To their vile murders: roasted in wrath and fire,
   And thus o'ersized with coagulate gore,
   With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
   Old grandsire Priam seeks.'

So, proceed you.

Pol.
'Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good
discretion.

I Play.
   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
   The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,
   Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
   Stoops to his base; and with a hideous crash
   Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear: for lo! his sword,
   Which was declining on the milky head
   Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick:
   So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood;
   And, like a neutral to his will and matter,
   Did nothing.
   But as we often see, against some storm,
   A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,
   The bold winds 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 strumpet, Fortune! All you gods,
   In general synod, take away her power;
   Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,
   And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,
   As low as to the fiends!