Ham. 'Tis as eafy as lying. Govern these (4) ventages with your fingers and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will difcourfe most eloquent mufick. Look you, these are the ftops.

Guil. But these I cannot command to any utterance of harmony; I have not the skill.

Ham. Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you would 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 loweft 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 easier to be play'd on than a pipe? Call me what inftrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.-God bless you, Sir..

Enter Polonius.

Pol. My Lord, the Queen would fpeak with you, and presently.

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

Pol. By the mafs, and it's like a Camel, indeed. *Ham. Methinks it is like an Ouzle.

(4) Ventages.] The holes of a flute.

*Ham. Methinks it is like an cuzle.

Pol. It is black like an ouzle.]

The firft folio reads,

It is like a weazell,

It is back'd like a weazell

And this I apprehend to be the true reading.

Polonius has already agreed to the fimilitude the cloud bears to a camel, and confeffes, readily enough, that it is very like a whale; but on Hamlet's pufhing the matter ftill further, though his complaifance holds out, it will not extend to a general resemblance any longer; he therefore admits the propriety of the last compari fon but in part, and only fays,

It is back'd like a weasel.

The weafel is remarkable for the length of its back; but the editors were misled by the quartos, which concur in reading black like a weafel, for this they fay was impoffible to be right, the animal being of another colour. The variation in thefe old copies was no more than a blunder of the printers, for it is as likely that the cloud fhould refemble a weafel in fhape, as an cuzle, i, e. blackbird, (which they substituted for it) in colour.

Mr. STEEVENS.

Pol.

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 by--

(5) they fool

by and by.

Pol. I will fay fo.

-Lwill.come

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 itself breathes out Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot

blood,

(6) And do fuch bitter bufinefs as the day Would quake to look on.

ther

Soft, now to my mos

O heart, lofe not thy nature; let not ever
The foul of Nero enter this firm bofom
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 she be shent,

(7) To give them feals never my foul confént !!

(5) They fool me to the top of my bent.] They compel me to play the fool, till I can endure no longer.

(6) And do fuch BITTER business as the day

Would quake to look on- -]. The expreffion is almoft burlefque.. The old quarto reads,

And do fucb bufinefs as the BITTER day.

Would quake to look on.

This is a little corrupt indeed, but much nearer Shakespeare's words, who wrote,

BETTER day,.

which gives the fentiment great force and dignity At this very time (fays he hell breathes out contagion to the world, whereby, night becomes polluted and execrable; the horror therefore of this feafon fits me for a deed, which the pure and facred day would quake to look on. This is faid with great claffical propriety. According to ancient fuperftition, night was prophane and execrable; and day, pure and holy.

WARBURTON.

(7) To give them feals-] i. e. put them in execution.

WARBURTON.

SCENE

SCENE VIII

Enter King, Rofincrantz, and Guildenstern.

King. I like him not, nor stands it safe with us To let his madness range. Therefore, prepare you; I your Commiffion will forthwith dispatch, And he to England fhall along with you. The terms of our estate may not endure Hazard fo near us, as doth hourly grow (8) Out of his Lunacies.

Guil. We will provide ourselves;
Moft holy and religious fear it is

To keep thofe many, many Bodies, fafe,
That live and feed upon your Majefty.

Rf. The fingle and peculiar life is bound,
With all the strength and armour of the mind,
To keep itself from noyance; but much more,
(9) That fpirit, on whose 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,,
To whofe huge fpokes ten thousand leffer things
Are mortiz'd and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
Each small annexment, petty confequence,
Attends the boist'rous ruin. Ne'er alone
Did the King figh, but with a general groan..

(8) Out of bis Lunacies. The old quarto's read,,
Out of bis Brows.

This was from the ignorance of the first editors; as aeceffary Alexandrine, which we owe to the players. I am perfuaded, wrote,

-As doth hourly grow

Out of bis Lunes.

ie. his madness, frenzy.

is this unThe poet,

THEOBALD

I take Brows to be, properly read, Frows, which, I think, is a provincial word, for perverse bumours; which being, I fuppofe, not understood, was changed to Lunacies. But of this I am not confident

(9) That spirit, on whose weal-] So the quarto.. The follo gives, On whose spirit.

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.

[Exeunt Gentlemen..

Enter Polonius.

Pol My Lord, he's going to his mother's closet; Behind the arras I'll convey myself

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, fhould o'er-hear
The fpeech, (1) 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;
A brother's murder. Pray I cannot,
(2) Though inclination be as fharp as 't will
My ftronger guilt defeats my ftrong intent :
And, like a man to double business bound,
I ftand in pause where I fhall firft begin,
And both neglect. What if this curfed hand
Were thicker tham itself with brother's blood?
Is there not rain enough in the fweet heav'ns
To wash it white as fnow? Whereto serves Mercy,
But to confront the visage 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;

[Exit.

(1) Of vantage.] By fome opportunity of fecret obfervation: (2) Though inclination be as sharp as wILL;] This is rank nonfenfe. We should read,

Fbough inclination be as fparp as TH ILL;

i.. tho' my inclination makes me as reftlefs and uneafy as my crime does. The line immediately following fhews this to be the true reading,

My fronger guilt defeats my ftrong intent.

WARBURTON.

I have followed the eafier emendation of Theobald, received by Hanmer.

My

My fault is paft. But oh, what form of prayer
Can ferve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder!
That cannot be, fince I am ftill poffeft

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

All may be well.

[The King retires and kneels.

SCENE
This is a

(3) May one be pardon'd and retain th" OFFENCE? ftrange queftion; and much the fame as to ask whether his offeace could be remitted while it was retain'd. Shakespeare, here repeated a word with propriety and elegance which he employed two lines above,

May one be pardon'd, and retain th' EFFECTS?

i. e. of his murder, and this was a reasonable queftion, He uses the word offence, properly, in the next line but one, and from thence, I fuppofe, came the blunder.

WARBURTONHe that does not a

I fee no difficulty in the prefent reading. mend what can be amended, retains his offence. the crown from the right heir.

The King kept

(4) Yet what can it, when one CANNOT repent?] This non fenfe even exceeds the laft. Shakespeare wrote,

Yet what can it, when one CAN BUT repent?

i. e. what can repentance do without reftitution? a natural and reasonable thought; and which the tranfcribers might have feen was the refult of his preceding reflections.

-Forgive me my foul murther!

That cannot be, fince I am fill possest

Of thofe effects, for which I did the murther,

My