Hor. You might have rhymed. Ham. Oh, good Horatio, I'll take the Ghoft's word for a thoufand pounds. Didit perceive? Hor. Very well, my Lord. Ham. Upon the talk of the poifoning? Hor. I did very well note him. Enter ROSINCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN. Ham. Oh, ha! come, fome mufic: Come, the For if the King like not the comedy, [Recorders. Why, then, belike, he likes it not, perdy. Come, fome mufic. Guil. Good my Lord, vouchfafe me a word with you. Ham. Sir, a whole history. Guil. The King, Sir--- Ham. Ay, Sir, what of him? Guil. Is, in bis retirement, marvellous diftempered-Ham. With drink, Sir? Guil. No, my Lord, with choler. Ham. Your wifdom fhall fhew itself more rich, to fignify this to his doctor; for, for me to put him to his purgation, would perhaps plunge him into more choler. The witches are fuppofed to hear their fpirits call to them in the fcreaming of a cat, and the croaking of a toad. But what makes it the more probable that this term fhould be ufed here, Hamlet again, afterwards speaking of his uncle to the Queen, among other contemptuous additions, gives him this very appellation: Twere good you let him know; For who that's but a Queen, fair, fober, wife, I had formerly propofed other conjectures; but I think I may venture to ftand by this. Sub judice lis eft. If it has reafon and probability on its fide, Mr Pope's legendary pe cock must even be content to wait for another election. Guil. Good my Lord, put your difcourfe into fome frame, and start not fo wildly from my affair. Ham. I am tame, Sir;---pronounce. Guil. The Queen your mother, in most great affliction of fpirit, hath fent me to you. Ham. You are welcome. Guil. Nay, good my Lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed. If it fhall pleafe you to make me a wholesome anfwer, I will do your mother's commandment; if not, your pardon, and my return, fhall be the end of my business. Ham. Sir, I cannot. Guil. What, my Lord? Ham. Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's difeafed. But, Sir, fuch answer as I can make you fhall command; or, rather, as you fay, my mother-therefore no more but to the matter 'my mother, you say Rof. Then thus the fays; your behaviour hath ftruck her into amazement and admiration. Ham. Oh wonderful fon, that can fo astonish a 'mother! But is there no fequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? Rof. She defires to speak with you in her clofet, ere you go to bed. Ham. We fhall obey, were fhe ten times our mother. Have you any further trade with us? Rof. My Lord, you once did love me. Ham. So I do till, by thefe pickers and ftealers Rof. Good my Lord, what is your cause of distemper? you do, furely, bar the door of your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend. Ham. Sir, I lack advancement. Ref. How can that be, when you have the voice I of the King himself for your fucceffion in Denmark? Ham. Ay, but "while the grafs grows"-----the proverb is something musty. Enter one, with a Recorder. Oh, the recorders; let me fee one. To withdraw with you---why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toile? Guil. Oh my Lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly. Ham. I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe? Guil. My Lord, I cannot. Ham. I pray you. Guil. Believe me, I cannot. Guil. I know no touch of it, my Lord. Ham. 'Tis as eafy as lying; govern these ventiges with your fingers and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will difcourfe moft eloquent mufic. Look you, these are the ftops. Guil. But thefe cannot I command to any utterance of harmony; I have not the skill. Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me; you would play upon me, you would feem to know my ftops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would found me from my lowest note to the top of my compafs; and there is much mufic, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. Why, do you think that I am easier to be played on than a pipe? call me what inftrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me, God bless you, Sir. Enter POLONIUS. Pol. My Lord, the Queen would speak with you, and presently. Ham. Do you fee yonder cloud, that's almost in fhape of a camel ? Pol. By the mass, and it's like a camel, indeed. Ham. Or, like a whale ? Pol. Very like a whale. Ham. Then will I come to my mother by and Бу.-- -They fool me to the top of my bent.---I will come by and by. (44) Methinks it is like an onzle. Pol. It is black like an ouzle] The old Quarto and Foliogive us this paffage thus ; Methinks it is like a weezel. Pol. It is black like a weezel. But a weezel, as Mr Pope has observed, is not black. Some other editions read the last line thus; Pol. It is backed like a weezcl. This only avoids the abfurdity of giving a falfe colour to the weezel; but oulze is certainly the true reading, and a word which our Author has ufed in other places; The ouzel-cock, fo black of hue, With orange-tawny bill, &c. Midsummer Night's Dream. Shal. And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow? and your faireft daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen? Sil. Alas, a black ouzel, coufin Shallow. 2 Henry IV. But there is a propriety in the word being used in the paffage before us, which determines it to be the true reading; the reafon of which, I prefume, did not occur to Mr Pope. 'Tis obvious that Hamlet, under the umbrage of fuppofed madnefs, is playing on Polonius; and a particular compliance is fhewn in the old man, (who thinks Hamlet really mad, and perhaps is afraid of him) to confefs, that the fame cloud is like a beaft, a bird, and a fish, viz. a camel, an ouzel, and a whale. Nor is there a little humour in the dispropor-tion of the three things which the cloud is fuppofed to refemble.. Fol. I will fay fo. Ham. By and by is eafily faid. Leave me, friends. [Exeunt. [out 'Tis now the very witching time of night, I will fpeak daggers to her, but ufe none. To give them feals never my foul confent! [Exit.. King. I like him not, nor ftands it fafe with us To let his madnefs range. Therefore, prepare you 1 your commiffion will forthwith dispatch, And he to England fhall along with you. The terms of our eftate may not endure (45) Hazard fo near us, as doth hourly grow Out of his Lunes. (45) The terms of our estate may not endureHazard fo near us, as coth bourly grow Out of his lunacies. Guil. We will provide ourselves;} The old Quartos read,- Out of his brows. This was from: the ignorance of the firft editors, as is this unneceifary Alexandrine, which we owe to the players. fuaded wrote; as doth hourly grow Out of his lunes. The Poet Lam per i. e. his madness, frenzy. So our Poet before, in his Winter's Tale; Thefe dangerous, unfafe lunes i'th' King!-befhrew 'em, The reader, if he pleafes, may turn to my tenth remark |