Ham. Methinks, it is like an Ouzle. (44):
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 itself 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 motherO heart, lose 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 ufe none.

(44) Methinks, it is like an ouzle,

Pol. It is black like an ouzle.] The old quarto and folio give us this paffage thus ;

Methinks, it is like a weezeł

Pol. It is black like a weezel.

But a weezel, as Mr. Pope has obferv'd, is not black. Some other editions read the last line thus;

Pol. It is back'd like a weezel.

This only avoids the abfurdity of giving a falfe colour to the weezel: but ouzle is certainly the true reading, and a word which our Author has ufed in other places;

The oufel-cock, fo black of hue,

With orange-tawny bill, &c.

Midsummer Night's Dreams Shal. And how doth my coufin, your bedfellow? and your faireft daughter and mine, my god daughter Ellen?

Sil. Alas, a black ouzle, coufin Shallow.

2 Henry IV. But there is a propriety in the word being used in the paffage before `us, which determines it to be the true reading; the reason of which, I prefume, did not occur to Mr. Pope. 'Tis obvious, that Hamlet, under the umbrage of fuppos'd madness, is playing on Polonius; and a particular compliance is fhewn in the old man, (who thinks Hamlet really mad, and, perhaps, is afraid of him) to confefs, that the fame cloud is like a beast, a bird, and a fifh: viz. a camel, an ouzel, and a whale. Nor is there a little humour in the difproportion of the three things, which the cloud is supposed to resemble.

My

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.

[Exit.

King. I like him not, nor ftands it fafe with us
To let his madnefs range. Therefore, prepare you;
I your Commiffion will forthwith difpatch,
And he to England fhall along with you.
The terms of our eftate may not endure (45)
Hazard fo near us, as doth hourly grow
Out of his Lunes.

Guil. We will provide ourselves;
Most holy and religious fear it is,
To keep thofe many, many bodies fafe,
That live and feed upon your Majesty.

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

(45) The terms of our eftate may not endure

Hazard fo near us, as dotb hourly grow
Out of bis lunacies.

Guil We will provide our felves.

The old quarto's read,

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 bourly grow

Out of bis lunes.

i.e. his madness, frenzy. So our Poet, before, in his Winter's Tale, Thefe dang'rous, unfafe lunes i'th' King !-behrew 'em,

He must be told of it, &c.

The reader, if he pleases, may turn to my tenth remark on that play. Perhaps, too, in the Merry Wives of Windsor, where all the editions read;

Why, woman, your husband is in his old lines again.

Fixt on the fummit of the highest mount,
To whofe huge spokes ten thoufand leffer things
Are mortiz'd and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
Fach small 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 clofet ; Behind the arras I'll convey myself

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

'lis meet, that fome more audience than a mother (Since nature makes them partial,) fhould o'er-hear The speech 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 smells to heav'n,
It hath the primal, eldeft curfe upon't; (4)
That of a brother's murder. Pray I cannot,
Though inclination be as fharp as will; (47)

(46) It bath the primal, eldest curfe upon't;

[Exit.

My

A brother's murther.-Pray I cannot. The laft verfe, 'tis evident, halts in the measure; and, if I don't mistake, is a little lame in the fense too. Was a brother's murther the eldeft curfe? Surely, it was rather the crime, that was the cause of this eldeft curfe. We have no affiftance, however, either to the fenfe or numbers from any of the copies. All the editions concur in the deficiency of a foot: but if we can both cure the meafure, and help the meaning, without a prejudice to the Author, I think, the concurrence of the printed copies fhould not be fufficient to forbid a conjecture. I have ventur'd at two fupplemental fyllables, as innocent in themselves as neceflary to the purposes for which they are introduc'd:

That of a brother's murther..

(47) Tho' inclination be.] This line has lain under the suspicion of many nice obfervers; and an ingenious gentleman ftarted, at a heat, this very probable emendation:

Tho'

My ftronger guilt defeats my strong intent :
And, like a man to double business bound,
1 ftand in paufe where I fhall first begin,
And both neglect. What if this curfed hand
Were thicker than itfelf with brother's blood?
Is there not rain enough in the fweet heav'ns
To wash it white as fnow? whereto ferves 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 dea? then I'll look up ;
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.
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 itself
Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above:

Tho' inclination be as fparp as 'twill. The variation from the traces of the letter is very minute, af, with an apostrophe before it, only being added; which might very eafily have flipt out, under the prin ter's hands: fo that the change will not be difputed, fuppofing there be a neceffity for it: which, however, is fubmitted to judgment. 'Tis certain, the line, as it ftands in all the editions, has fo ftrongly the air of a flat tautology, that it may deserve a short comment; and to have the difference betwixt inclination and will ascertain'd. The word inclination, in its ufe with us, (as my friend Mr. Warburton defines it to me) is taken in these three acceptations. First, In its exact philofophical fenfe, it fignifies, the drawing or inclining the will to determine itself one certain way: according to this fignification, the line is nonfenfe; and is the fame as to affirm, that the part is as big. as the robole. In the next place, inclination fignifies the will; and then it is the most abfurd tautology. But, lafly, it fignifies a difpofition to do a thing already determin'd of, with complacency and plea Jure. And if this is, as it feems to be,, the fenfe of the word here; then the fentiment will be very clear and proper. For will, fignifying barely the determination of the mind to do a thing, the fenfe will be this: "Tho' the pleasure I take in this act, be as ftrong as the "determination of my mind to perform it; yet my ftronger guilt defeats my ftrong intent, &c."

There,

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 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?
O 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 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 grofsly, full of bread,

With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
And how his audit ftands, who knows, fave heav'n ?
But in our circumstance 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; (48)
When he is drunk, afleep, or in his rage,

Or

(48) Up, fword, and know thou a more horrid time.] This is a fo phifticated reading, warranted by none of the copies of any autho rity. Mr. Pope fays, I read conjecturally ;

a more borrid 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 fubftantive, it feems very natural to conclude, that, with the change of a single letter, our Author's genuine word was, bent, i. e. drift, fcope, inclination, purpose, &c. I have prov'd his frequent use of this word, in my SHAKESPEARE Reftor'd; fo fhall fpare the trouble of making the quotations over again here, I took notice there,

that