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 mufick. Look you, these are the stops.

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 mufick, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it fpeak. Why, do you think, that I am eafier to be plaid on than a pipe? call me what inftrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon God bless you, Sir.

me.

Enter Polonius.

Pol. My lord, the Queen would speak with you, and preféntly.

Ham. Do you fee yonder cloud, that's almost in shape of a Camel?

Pol. By the mafs, and it's like a Camel, indeed.

Ham. Methinks, it is like an Ouzle.

Pol. It is black like an Ouzle.

Ham. Or, like a Whale?

Pol. Very like a Whale.

Ham. Then will I come to my mother by and bythey fool me to the top of my bent. -I will come by and by.

Pol. I will fay fo.

Ham. By and by is eafily faid. Leave me, friends.

'Tis now the very witching time of night,

[Exeunt.

When church-yards yawn, and hell it felf breathes out
Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood,
And do fuch bitter bufinefs as the day

Would quake to look on. Soft, now to my mother
O heart, lofe not thy nature; let not ever
The Soul of Nero enter this firm bofóm;

Let

Let me be cruel, not unnatural;

I will fpeak daggers to her, but use none.
My tongue and foul in this be hypocrites;
How in my words foever the be fhent,
To give them feals never my foul confent!

Enter King, Rofincrantz, and Guildenstern.
King. I like him not, nor ftands it safe with us
To let his madness range. Therefore, prepare you;
I your Commiffion will forthwith difpatch,
And he to England fhall along with you.
The terms of our estate may not endure (21)
Hazard fo near us, as doth hourly grow
Out of his Lunes.

Guil. We will provide our felves;
Moft holy and religious fear it is,
To keep thofe many, many, Bodies fafe,
That live and feed upon your Majefty.

Rof. The fingle and peculiar life is bound,
With all the ftrength and armour of the mind,.
To keep it felf from noyance; but much more,
That fpirit, on whofe weal depends and rests
The lives of many. The ceafe of Majesty
Dies not alone, but, like a gulf, doth draw
What's near it with it. It's a maffy wheel
Fixt on the fummit of the highest mount,

(21) The Terms of our Eftate may not enduro Hazard fo near us, as doth hourly grow Out of his Lunacies.

Guil. We will provide our felves.

The old Quarto's read,~

[Exit.

Out of his Brows. This was

from the Ignorance of the firft Editors; as is this unneceffary Alexandrine, which we owe to the Players. The Poet, I am perfuaded, wrote,

-as doth hourly grow

Out of his Lunes.

i. e. his Madness, Frenzy. So our Poet, before, in his Wing ter's Tale.

Thefe dang rous, unfafe Lunes i'th' King!-besbrew 'em,
He must be told of it, &c.

To whofe huge fpokes ten thoufand leffer things
Are mortiz'd and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
Each finall annexment, petty confequence,
Attends the boift'rous ruin. Ne'er alone

Did the King figh; but with a general groan.

King. Arm you, I pray you, to this fpeedy voyage ; For we will fetters put upon this fear,

Which now goes too free-footed.

Both. We will hafte us.

Enter Polonius.

[Exeunt Gentlemen.

Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's closet; Behind the arras I'll convey my felf

To hear the procefs. I'll warrant, fhe'll tax him home.
And, as you faid, and wifely was it faid,

'Tis meet, that fome more audience than a mother
(Since nature makes them partial,) should o'er-hear
The fpeech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege;
I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,
And tell you what I know.

King. Thanks, dear my lord.

Oh! my offence is rank, it fmells to heav'n,
It hath the primal, eldeft, curfe upon't; (22)
That of a brother's murther. Pray I cannot,
Though inclination be as fharp as will;
My ftronger guilt defeats my trong intent:
And, like a man to double business bound,
I ftand in paufe where I fhall firft begin,
And both neglect. What if this curfed hand

(29) It hath the primal, eldest, Curse upon't:

[Exit.

A brother's Murther Pray 1 cannot,] The laft Verfe, 'tis evident, halts in the Measure; and, if I don't mistake, is a little lame in the Senfe too. Was a brother's Murther the eldest Curfe? Surely, it was rather the Crime, that was the Cause of this eldest Curfe. We have no Affiftance, however, either to the Senfe or Numbers, from any of the Copies. I have ventur'd at two Supplemental Syllables, as innocent in themfelves as meceffary to the Purposes for which they are introduc'd:

That of a Brother's Murther.

Were

3

Were thicker than itself with brother's blood?
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heav'ns
To wash it white as fnow? whereto ferves Mercy,
But to confront the vifage of offence?
And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force,
To be fore-ftalled ere we come to fall,

Or pardon'd being down? then I'll look up;
My fault is paft.- -But oh, what form of prayer
Can ferve my turn? Forgive me my foul murther!-
That cannot be, fince I am ftill poffeft

Of thofe effects for which I did the murther,
My Crown, mine own Ambition, and my Queen.
May one be pardon'd, and retain th'offence?
In the corrupted currents of this world,
Offence's gilded hand may fhove by juftice;
And oft 'tis feen, the wicked prize it felf
Buys out the law; but 'tis not fo above:
There, is no fhuffling; there, the action lies
In his true nature, and we our felves compell'd,
Ev'n to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence. What then? what refts?
Try, what repentance can: What can it not?
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?
Oh wretched state! oh bofom, black as death!
Oh limed foul, that, ftruggling to be free,
Art more engaged! help, angels! make affay!
Bow, itubborn knees; and, heart, with ftrings of steel,
Be foft as finews of the new-born babe!

All may be well.

[The King retires and kneels

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying,
And now I'll do't--and fo he goes to heav'n.
And fo am I reveng'd? that would be fcann'd;
A villain kills my father, and for that

I, his fole fon, do this fame villain fend
To heav'n-O, this is hire and falary, not revenge.
He took my father grofly, full of bread,

With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
And how his audit ftands, who knows, fave heaven?

H 4

But

But in our circumftance and course of thought,
"Tis heavy with him. Am I then reveng'd,
To take him in the purging of his foul,
When he is fit and feafon'd for his paffage?

Up, fword, and know thou a more horrid Bent; (23)
When he is drunk, asleep, or in his

rage,
Or in th' incestuous pleasure of his bed;
At gaming, fwearing, or about fome act
That has no relish of falvation in't;

Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heav'n;
And that his foul may be as damn'd and black
As hell, whereto it goes. My mother ftays;
This phyfick but prolongs thy fickly days.

The King rifes, and comes forward,

[Exit.

King. My words fly up, my thoughts remain below j Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go. [Exit.

SCENE changes to the Queen's Apartment.

Enter Queen and Polonius.

Pol.TTE will come straight; look, you lay home to

HB Whim;

Tell him, his pranks have been too broad to bear with ;
And that your Grace hath fcreen'd, and stood between
Much heat and him. I'll filence me e'en here;
Pray you, be round with him.

Ham. [within.] Mother, Mother, Mother.

(23) Up, Sword, and know thom a more horrid Time.] This is a fophifticated Reading, warranted by none of the Copies of any Authority. Mr. Pope fays, I read conjecturally; - a more horrid Bent.

I do fo; and why? the two oldeft Quarto's, as well as the two elder Folio's, read; a more horrid Hent. But, as there is no fuch English Subftantive, it seems very natural to cons clude, that, with the Change of a fingle Letter, our Au thor's genuine Word was, Bent; i. e. Drift, Scope, Inclination, Purpose, &c.

Queen.