To lack difcretion. Come; go we to the King. This must be known; which, being kept clofe, might move More grief to hide, than hate to utter, love. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Palace. Enter King, Queen, Rofincrantz, Guildenstern, Lords and other Attendants. King. WB KingELCOME, dear Rofincrantz, and Guil denftern! Moreover that we much did long to fee you, I cannot dream of. I entreat you Both, That being of fo young days brought up with him, Queen. Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you; And, fure I am, two men there are not living, To whom he more adheres. If it will please you To fhew us fo much gentry and good will, As to extend your time with us a while, For the fupply and profit of our hope, Rof. Both your Majesties Might, by the fov'reign power you have of us, dread pleasures more into command Put your Than Than to entreaty. Guil. But we both obey, And here give up our felves, in the full bent, King. Thanks, Rofincrantz, and gentle Guildenstern. crantz. And, I beseech you, inftantly to vifit My too much changed fon. Go, fome of yẽ, And bring thefe gentlemen where Hamlet is. Guil. Heav'ns make our prefence and our practices Pleasant and helpful to him! Queen. Amen. [Exeunt Rof. and Guil. Enter Polonius. Pol. Th' ambffadors from Norway, my good lord, Are joyfully return'd. King. Thou ftill haft been the father of good news. Pol Have I, my lord? affure you, my good liege, I hold my duty, as I hold my foul, Both to my God, and to my gracious King; And I do think, (or elfe this brain of mine As I have us'd to do) that I have found King. Oh, fpeak of that, that do I long to hear. My news fhall be the fruit to that great feast. Queen. I doubt, it is no other but the main, Re-enter Polonius, with Voltimand, and Cornelius. King. Well, we shall fift him.-Welcome, my good friends! Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway? Upon Upon our firft, he fent out to fupprefs It was against your Highness: Whereat griev'd, (13) Gives him three thousand Crowns in annual Fee.] This Reading first obtain'd in the Edition put out by the Players. But all the old Quarto's (from 1605, downwards,) read, as I have reform'd the Text. I had hinted, that threescore thoufand Crowns feem'd a much more fuitable Donative from a King to his own Nephew, and the General of an Army, than fo poor a Pittance as three thousand Crowns, a Penfion fcarce large enough for a dependent Courtier. I therefore reftor'd, Gives him threescore thousand Crowns To this Mr. Pope, (very archly critical, as he imagines ;) has only replyed,- -which in his Ear is a Verfe. I own, it is; and I'll venture to prove to this great Mafter in Numbers, that 2 Syllables may, by Pronunciation, be refolv'd and melted into one, as easily as two Notes are fur'd in Mufick and a Redundance of a Syllable, that may be fo funk, has never been a Breach of Harmony in any Language. We must pronounce, and fcan, as if 'twere written; Gi's'm three | Score thousand crowns | Mr. Pope would advance a falfe Nicety of Ear against the Licence of Shakespeare's Numbers; nay, indeed, against the Licence of all English Verfification, in common with That of other Languages. Three Syllables, thus liquidated into Two, are in Scanfion plainly an Anapest; and equal to a Spondee, or Foot of two Syllables. I could produce at least two thousand of our Poet's Verses, that would be difturb'd by this modern, unreasonable, Chafteness of Metre. And And his Commiffion to employ those soldiers, King. It likes us well; And at our more confider'd time we'll read, upon this business. Mean time, we thank you for your well-took labour. Moft welcome home! Pol. This business is well ended. My Liege, and Madam, to expoftulate [Ex. Ambaf. Why day is day, night night, and time is time, Queen. More matter, with less art. Pol. Madam, I fwear, I use no art at all: Hath giv'n me this; now gather, and surmise. [He opens a letter, and reads.] To the celestial, and my foul's idol, the most beati fied (14) Ophelia. That's an ill phrase, a vile phrafe: beatified is a vile phrafe; but you fhall hear Thefe to ber excellent white bofom, thefe. Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her? Pol. Good Madam, stay a while, I will be faithful. Doubt thou, the ftars are fire, Doubt, that the Sun doth move ; But never doubt, I love. [Reading. Oh, dear Ophelia, I am ill at thefe numbers; I have not art to reckon my groans; but that I love thee beft, b most beft, believe it. Adieu. Thine evermore, moft dear Lady, whilst this Machine is to him, Hamlet. This in obedience hath my daughter fhewn me: As they fell out by time, by means, and place, King. But how hath fhe receiv'd his love? (14) To the Celestial, and my Soul's Idol, the most beautified Ophelia.] I have ventur'd at an Emendation here, against the Authority of all the Copies; but, I hope, upon Examination it will appear probable and reasonable. The Word beautified may carry two diftin&t Ideas, either as applied to a Woman made up of artificial Beauties, or to one rich in native Charms. As Shakespeare has therefore chofe to use it in the latter Acceptation, to exprefs natural Comeliness 3 I cannot imagine, that, here, he would make Polonius except to the Phrase, and call it a vile one. But a ftronger Objection ftill, in my Mind, lies against it. As Celestial and Soul's Idol are the introductory Characteristics of Ophelia, what a dreadful Anticlimax is it to defcend to fuch an Epithet as beautified? On the other hand, beatified, as I have conjectur'd, raises the Image: but Polenius might very well, as a Roman Catholick, call it a vile Phrafe, i. e. favouring of Prophanation; fince the Epithet is peculiarly made an Adjunct to the Virgin Mavy's Honour, and therefore ought not to be employ'd in the Praise of a meer Mortal. Pol.. |