A heart unfortify'd, a mind impatient,
An understanding fimple, and unfchool'd:
For, what we know muft be, and is as common
As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
Why should we, in our peevish oppofition,
Take it to heart? fie! 'tis a fault to heav'n,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To Reafon most abfurd; whofe common theam
Is death of fathers, and who ftill hath cry'd,
From the first coarse, 'till he that died to day,
"This must be fo." We pray you, throw to earth
This unprevailing woe, and think of us

As of a father: for let the world take note,
You are the most immediate to our Throne;
And with't no lefs nobility of love, (3)
Than that which dearest father bears his fon,
Do I impart tow'rd you. For your intent
In going back to school to Wittenberg,
It is most retrograde to our defire:
And we beseech you, bend you to remain
Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
Our chiefeft courtier, coufin, and our fon.

Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet :
I pr'ythee, ftay with us, go not to Wittenberg.
Ham. I fhall in all my best obey you, Madam.
King. Why, 'tis a loving, and a fair reply;
Be as our felf in Denmark. Madam, come;
This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet
Sits fmiling to my heart, in grace whereof
No jocund health, that Denmark drinks to day,
But the great Cannon to the clouds fhall tell;
And the King's rowse the heav'n shall bruit again,

(3) And with no lefs Nobility of Love,

Than that which dearest Father bears his Son,

Do I impart towards you.] But what does the King impart? We want the Substantive govern'd of the Verb. The King had declar'd Hamlet his immediate Succeffor; and with That Declaration, he muft mean, he imparts to him as noble a Love, as ever fond Father tender'd to his own Son. I have ventur'd to make the Text conform with this Senfe.

Re-fpeak

Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come, away. [Exeunt. Manet Hamlet.

Ham. Oh, that this too-too-folid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve it self into a dew!
Or that the Everlafting had not fixt (4)

His canon 'gainst felf-flaughter! Oh God! oh God!
How weary, ftale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the ufes of this world!
Fie on't! oh fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,

That grows to feed; things rank, and grofs in nature,
Poffefs it meerly. That it should come to this!

But two months dead! nay, not fo much; not two ;So excellent a King, that was, to this,

Hyperion to a Satyr: fo loving to my mother, (5)

(4) Or that the Everlasting had not fix3d

His Cannon 'gainst Self-Slaughter!] The Generality of the -Editions read thus, as if the Poet's Thought were, or that the Almighty had not planted his Artillery, his Refentment, or Arms of Vengeance, against Self-Murther. But the Word, which I reftor'd to the Text, (and which was efpous'd by the accurate Mr. Hughes, who gave an Edition of this Play;) is the Poet's true Reading. i. e. That he had not restrain'd Suicide by his exprefs Law, and peremptory Prohibition. Mistakes are perpetually made in the Old Editions of our Poet, betwixt thofe two Words, Cannon and Canon.

(5)

So loving to my Mother, That he permitted not the Winds of Heav'n

Visit her Face too roughly.] This is a fophifticated Reading, copied from the Players in fome of the modern Editions, for Want of Understanding the Poet, whofe Text is corrupt in the Old Impreffions: All of which that I have had the Fortune to fee, concur in reading;

So loving to my Mother,

That he might not beteene the Winds of Heav'n

Vifit her Face too roughly.

Beteene is a Corruption without Doubt, but not fo inveterate a one, but that, by the Change of a fingle Letter, and the Separation of two Words mistakenly jumbled together, I am verily perfuaded, I have retriev'd the Poet's Reading. That he might not let e'en the Winds of Heav'n, &c.

That

That he might not let e'en the winds of heav'n
Vifit her face too roughly. Heav'n and earth!
Muft I remember?

why, he would hang on him, As if Increase of Appetite had grown

By what it fed on; yet, within a month,

Let me not think - Frailty, thy name is Woman!
A little month! or ere thofe fhoes were old,
With which she follow'd my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears Why the, ev'n fhe,

(O heav'n! a beaft, that wants difcourfe of reason, Would have mourn'd longer-married with mine uncle,

My father's brother; but no more like my father,
Than I to Hercules. Within a month!
Ere yet the falt of moft unrighteous tears
Had left the flufhing in her gauled eyes,
She married.

Oh, most wicked speed, to post
With fuch dexterity to inceftuous sheets!
It is not, nor it cannot come to Good.

But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.

Enter Horatio, Bernardo, and Marcellus.

Hor. Hail to your lordship!

Ham. I am glad to fee

you

well;

Horatio, -or I do forget my felf?

Hor. The fame, my lord, and your poor fervant ever. Ham. Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you:

And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?
Marcellus!

Mar. My good lord

Ham. I am very glad to fee you; good even, Sir. But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg ? Hor. A truant difpofition, good my lord. Ham. I would not hear your enemy say fo; Nor fhall you do mine ear that violence, To make it Truster of your own report Against your felf. I know, you are no truant ; But what is your affair in Elfinoor ? We'll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart.

Hor.

Hor. My lord, I came to fee your father's funeral. Ham. I pr'ythee, do not mock me, fellow-student; I think, it was to fee my mother's wedding.

Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon. Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio; the funeral bak'd meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. 'Would, I had met my dearest foe in heav'n, Or ever I had feen that day, Horatio!

My father

methinks, I fee my father.

Hor. Oh where, my lord ?

Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.

Hor. I faw him once, he was a goodly King.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,
I fhall not look upon his like again.

Hor. My lord, I think, I faw him yesternight.
Ham. Saw! who?

Hor. My lord, the King your father.
Ham. The King my father!

Hor. Seafon your admiration but a while,
With an attentive ear; 'till I deliver
Upon the witnefs of these gentlemen,

This marvel to you.

Ham. For heaven's love, let me hear.
Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,

In the dead waste and middle of the night,
Been thus encountred: A figure like your father,
Arm'd at all points exactly, Cap-à-pe,
Appears before them, and with folemn march
Goes flow and stately by them; thrice he walk'd,
By their oppreft and fear-furprized eyes,

Within his truncheon's length; whilst they (diftill'd
Almoft to jelly with the act of fear)

Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me
In dreadful fecrecy impart they did,

And I with them the third night kept the watch;
Where, as they had deliver'd both in time,

Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The Apparition comes. I knew your father:
Thefe hands are not more like.

Ham.

Ham. But where was this?

Mar. My lord, upon the Platform where we watcht. Ham. Did you not speak to it?

Hor. My lord, I did;}

But anfwer made it none; yet once, methought,
It lifted up its head, and did address

It felf to motion, like as it would speak :
But even then the morning-cock crew loud;
And at the found it fhrunk in haste away,
And vanifht from our fight.

Ham. 'Tis very strange.

Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true;
And we did think it writ down in our duty
To let you know of it.

Ham. Indeed, indeed, Sirs, but this troubles me.
Hold you the watch to night?

Both. We do, my lord.

Ham. Arm'd, fay you?
Both. Arm'd, my lord.

Ham. From top to toe?

Both. My lord, from head to foot.

Ham. Then faw you not his face?

Her. Oh, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.
Ham. What, look'd he frowningly?

Hor. A count'nance more in forrow than in anger.
Ham. Pale, or red?

Hor. Nay, very pale.

Ham. And fixt his eyes upon you?

Hor. Moft conftantly.

Ham. I would, I had been there!

Ham. It would have much amaz'd you.

Ham. Very like; ftaid it long?

Hor. While one with moderate hafte might tell a hundred.

Both. Longer, longer.

Hor. Not when I faw't.

Ham. His beard was grifly ?

Hor. It was, as I have feen it in his life,

A fable filver'd.

Ham. I'll watch to night; perchance, 'twill walk again.

Hor.