A heart unfortify'd, a mind impatient, As of a father: for let the world take note, Queen. Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet : (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, His canon 'gainst felf-flaughter! Oh God! oh God! That grows to feed; things rank, and grofs in nature, 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 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! (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, Oh, most wicked speed, to post 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? 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. Hor. My lord, I think, I faw him yesternight. Hor. My lord, the King your father. Hor. Seafon your admiration but a while, This marvel to you. Ham. For heaven's love, let me hear. In the dead waste and middle of the night, Within his truncheon's length; whilst they (diftill'd Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to me And I with them the third night kept the watch; Form of the thing, each word made true and good, 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 felf to motion, like as it would speak : Ham. 'Tis very strange. Hor. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true; Ham. Indeed, indeed, Sirs, but this troubles me. Both. We do, my lord. Ham. Arm'd, fay you? 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. Hor. A count'nance more in forrow than in anger. 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. |