And outraged nature, pale and bent,
Fall prostrate in bewilderment!"
[All titter through this—breaking into a laugh at the end, the King enjoying it as much as anyone.
Oph. Truly, sir, I hope he will prove faithful, lest we should all be involved in this catastrophe!
Cl. (laughing). Much indeed depends upon his constancy. I am sure he hath all our prayers, gentlemen! (Aside to Rosencrantz.) Is this play well known?
Ros. It is not, my lord.
Cl. Ha! I seem to have met with these lines before. Go on.
She. "Hark, dost thou hear those trumpets and drums?
Thy hated rival, stern Gonzago, comes!" [Laughter, as before.
Q. And wherefore cometh Gonzago?
Ros. He cometh here to woo!
Q. Cannot he woo without an orchestra at his elbow? A fico for such a wooing, say I!
Cl. (rather alarmed—aside to Ros.). Who is Gonzago?
Ros. He's a mad Archbishop of Elsinore. 'Tis a most ridiculous and mirthful character—and the more so for that the poor author had hoped to have appalled you with his tragedical end!
[During this the King has shown that he has recognized his tragedy. He is horrified at the discovery.
