Not of that dye which their investments fhew, I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth, As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Platform before the Palace, Enter HAMLET, HORATIO, and MARCELLUS. Ham. The air bites fhrewdly; it is very cold. Hor. It is a nipping and an eager air. Ham. What hour now? Hor. I think, it lacks of twelve. Mar. No, it is ftruck. Hor. I heard it not : it then draws near the season, Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. [Noife of warlike mufic within. What does this mean, my Lord? [roufe, Ham. The King doth wake to-night, and takes his Keeps waffel, and the fwaggering up-fpring reels; And as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge. Hor. Is it a custom? Ham. Ay, marry, is't: But, to my mind, though I am native here, prompters of unholy (that is, unchafte) fuits; and so a change of the fame metaphor is continued to the end. I made this emendation when I published my Shakespeare Reftored, and Mr Pope has thought fit to embrace it in his - last edition. More honoured in the breach than the obfervance. This heavy-headed revel, eaft and weft, (15) Makes us traduced and taxed of other nations; They clepe us drunkards, and with fwinith phrafe Soil our addition; and, indeed, it takes [height, From our atchievements, though performed at That for fome vicious mole of nature in them, By the o'ergrowth of fome complexion, Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason; Shall in the general cenfure take corruption (15) This heavy headed revel, east and weft,] This whole fpeech of Hamlet, to the entrance of the ghost, I set right in my Shakespeare Reftored, fo fhall not trouble the readers again with a repetition of thofe corrections, or juftification of them. Mr Pope admits, I have given the whole a glimmering of fenfe, but it is purely conjectural, and founded on no authority of copies. But is this any objection against conjecture in Shakespeare's cafe, where no original manufeript is fubfifting, and the printed copies have fucceffively blundered after one another? And is not even a glimmering of fenfe, fo it be not arbitrarily impofed, preferable to flat and glaring nonfenfe? If not, there is a total end at least to this branch of criticifm, and nonfenfe may plead title and prescription from time, because there is no direct authority for difpossessing it. (16) -The dram of cafe Doth all the noble fubftance of worth out, To his own feanda!.] Mr Pope, who has degraded this whole speech, has entirely left out this concluding sentence of it. It looks, indeed, to be defperate, and for that reafon, I conceive, he chofe to drop it. I do not remember a paffage, throughout all our Poet's works, more intricate and depraved in the text, of lefs meaning to outward appearance, or more likely to baffle the attempts of criticism in its aid. It is certain, there is neither fente nor grammar as it now ftands; yet, with a flight alteration, I'll endeavour to cure thofe defects, and give a fentiment too, that shall make the Poet's thought close nobly. What can a dram of cafe mean or what can it have to do with the context, fuppofing it were the allowed expreffion here? Or, in a word, what agreement in fenfe is there betwixt a dram of enfe and the fubitance of a doubt? It is a defperate corruption, and the nearest way to hope for a cure of it, is to confider narrowly what the Poet must be fuppofed to have intended here. The whole tenour of this fpeech is, that let men have never fo many or fo eminent virtues, if they have one defect which accompanies them, that fingle blemish shall throw a ftain upon their whole character; and not only fo, (if I understand right) but fall deface the very effence of all their goodnefs, to its own fcandal; fo that their virtues themselves will become their reproach. This is not only a continuation of his fentiment, but carries it up with a fine and proper climax. I have ventured to conjecture that the Author might write; -The dram of bafe Doth all the noble fubftance of worth out. To his own scandal. The dram of bafe, i. e. the least alloy of bafenefs or vice. It is very frequent with our Poet to use the adjective of quali ty instead of the fubftantive fignifying the thing. Befides, I have obferved, that elsewhere, fpeaking of worth, he delights to confider it as a quality that adds weight to a perfon, and connects the word with that idea: Let every word weigh heavy of her worth, All's Well that ends Well. Cymbeline Enter Ghoft. Hor. Look, my Lord, it comes! Ham. Angels and ministers of grace defend us!] Be thou a fpirit of health, or goblin damned, Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou comeft in fuch a questionable fhape, (17) With thoughts beyond the reaches of our fouls? As if it fome impartment did defire Το you alone. Mar. Look, with what courteous action. It waves you to a more removed ground: But do not go with it. Hor. No, by no means. [Holding Hamlet. Ham. It will not speak; then I will follow it. (17) Thou comest in such a questionable shape,] By questionable we now conftantly understand difputable, doubtful; "but our Author ufes it in a fenfe quite oppofite, not difputable, but to be converfed with, inviting question; as in Macbeth; Live you, or are you aught that man may question? Hor. Do not, my Lord. Ham. Why, what fhould be the fear? It waves me forth again.----I'll follow it---- Hor. What if it tempt you tow'rd the flood, my Or to the dreadful fummit of the cliff, That beetles o'er his base into the sea; And there affume some other horrible form, [Lord, Which might deprive your fovereignty of reafon, Ham. It waves me ftill: go on, I'll follow thee--- Ham. Hold off your hands. Mar. Be ruled, you shall not go. Ham. My fate cries out, And makes each petty artery in this body Still am I called: unhand me, gentlemen [Breaking from them. By Heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me--I fay, away--go on----I'll follow thee------ [Exeunt Ghoft and Hamlet. Hor. He waxes defperate with imagination. come? Mar. Something is rotten in the ftate of Denmark. Mar. Nay, let's follow him. [Exeunt. |