In mincing with his fword her husband's limbs;
The inftant burst of clamour that she made,
(Unless things mortal move them not at all)
Would have made milch the burning eyes of Heaven,
And paflion in the gods.

Pol. Look whether he has not turned his colour, and has tears in's eyes. Pr'ythee, no more.

Ham. 'Tis well. I'll have thee speak out the rekt of this foon. Good my Lord, will you fee the players well beftowed? Do ye hear, let them be well used; for they are the abstract and brief chroniclers of the time. After your death, you were better have a bad epitaph, than their ill report while you lived.

Pol. My Lord, I will ufe them according to their defert.

Ham. God's bodikins, man, much better. Ufe every man after his defert, and who fhall 'scape whipping? ufe them after your own honour and dignity. The lefs they deferve, the more merit is in your hounty. Take them in.

Pol. Come, Sirs.

[Exit Polonius. Ham. Follow him, friends: we'll have a play tomorrow. Doft thou hear me, old friend, can you play the murder of Gonzago?

Play. Ay, my Lord.

Ham. We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, for a need, study a speech of fome dozen or fixteen lines, which I would fet down and infert in't? could ye not?

Play. Ay, my Lord.

Ham Very well. Follow that Lord, and look you mock him not. My good friends, I'll leave you 'till night: you are welcome to Elfinoor. Raf. Good my Lord.

[Exeunt.

Manet HAMLET.

Ham. Ay, fo, God b'w'ye. Now I am alone, Oh, what a rogue and peasant flave am I! Is it not monftrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of paffion, Could force his foul fo to his own conceit, That, from her working, all his vifage warmed: Tears in his eyes, diftraction in his afpect,

A broken voice, and his whole function fuiting, With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing? For Hecuba?

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,

That he fhould weep for her? what would he do,
Had he the motive and the cue for paffion
That I have? he would drown the ftage with tears,
And cleave the general ear with horrid fpeech,
Make mad the guilty, and appal the five;
Confound the ignorant, and amaze, indeed,
The very faculty of eyes and ears.-------Yet I,
A dull and muddy-mettled rafcal, peak,
Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my caufe,
And can fay nothing-----no, not for a King,
Upon whofe property and moft dear life

A damned defeat was made. Am I a coward?
Who calls me villain, breaks my pate a-crofs,
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?
Tweaks me by th' nofe, gives me the lye i' th' throat,
As deep as to the lungs? who does me this?
Yet I fhould take it-----for it cannot be
But I am pigeon-livered, and lack gall
To make oppreffion bitter; or, ere this,
I fhould have fatted all the region kites
With this flave's offal. Bloody, bawdy villain!
Remorfeless, treacherous, letcherous, kindlefs vil
Why, what an ass am I? this is most brave, [lain !

That I, the fon of a dear father murdered,
Prompted to my revenge by Heaven and hell,
Muft, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,
And fall a curfing like a very drab-(32)
A cullion,---fy upon't! foh!—about, my brain!---
I've heard, that guilty creatures, at a play,
Have, by the very cunning of the scene,
Been ftruck fo to the foul, that presently
They have proclaimed their malefactions.
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ. I'll have thefe players
Play fomething like the murder of my father,
Before mine uncle. I'll obferve his looks;
-I'll tent him to the quick; if he but blench,
I know my courfe. This fpirit, that I have seen,
May be the devil; and the devil hath power
Taffume a pleafing thape; yea, and, perhaps,
Out of my weaknefs and my melancholy,
(As he is very potent with such spirits)
Abufes me to damn me. I'll have grounds.
More relative than this: the play's the thing,
Wherein I'll catch the confcience of the King. [Exit.

(32) And fall a curfing like a very drab

A ftallion. But why a ftallion? The two old Folios have it, a fcullion; but that too is wrong. I am perfuaded Shakespeare wrote as I have reformed the text, a cullion, i. e. a stupid, heartlefs, faint-hearted, white-livered fellow; one good for nothing, but curfing and talking big.

So, in King Lear ;

I'll make a Top o' th' moon?hine of you; you whorfon, cullionly barbermonger, draw.

Henry VI.

Away, bafe cullions !—Suffolk, let 'em go.

The word is of Italian extraction, from coglione; which, in its metaphorical fignification, (as La Crufca defines it) dicefi ancer caglione per ingiuria in fenfo di balardo,—is faid by way of reproach to a îlupid, good-for-nothing blockhead,

VOL. XII.

G

ACT HI.

SCENE, the Palace.

Enter King, Queen, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSINCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and Lords.

KING.

AND can you by no drift of conference
Get from him why he puts on this confufion,
Grating fo harshly all his days of quiet,
With turbulent and dangerous lunacy?

Rof. He does confefs, he feels himself distracted; But from what caufe he will by no means fpeak. Guil. Nor do we find him forward to be founded; But with a crafty madness keeps aloof,

When we would bring him on to fome confeffion Of his true state.

Queen. Did he receive you well?

Rof. Moft like a gentleman.

Guil. But with much forcing of his difpofition. Rof. Niggard of queftion, but of our demands Moft free in his reply.

Queen. Did you affay him to any pastime? Rof. Madam, it fo fell out that certain players We o'er-took on the way; of these we told him; And there did feem in him a kind of joy To hear of it: they are about the court; And (as I think) they have already order This night to play before him.

Pol. 'Tis moft true:

And he befeeched me to intreat your Majesties
To hear and fee the matter.

King. With all my heart, and it doth much conTo hear him fo inclined.

[tent me

[Exeunt

Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,
And drive his purpofe into these delights.
Rof. We fhall, my Lord.
King. Sweet Gertrude, leave us too;
For we have clofely fent for Hamlet hither,
That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
Affront Ophelia. Her father and myself
Will fo bestow ourfelves, that, feeing, unfeen,
We may of their encounter frankly judge;
And gather by him, as he is behaved,
If't be th' affliction of his love, or no,.
That thus he fuffers for.

Queen. I fhall obey you:

And for my part, Ophelia, I do with,

That your good beauties be the happy caufe

Of Hamlet's wildness! So fhall I hope; your virtues

May bring him to his wonted way again,

To both your honours.

Oph. Madam, I wish it may.

[Exit Queen.

Pol. Ophelia, walk you here.-Gracious, fo

please ye,

We will beftow ourfelves.

-Read on this book;

That fhew of such an exercise may colour

Your loneliness. We're oft to blame in this,

'Tis too much proved, that with devotion's visage, And pious action, we do fugar o'er

The devil himself.

King Oh, 'tis too true.

How fmart a lafh that speech doth give my confcience !

[Afide. The harlot's cheek, beautied with plaiftring art, Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it, Than is my deed to my most painted word. Oh heavy burden !

Pol.. I hear him coming; let's withdraw, my Lord. [Exeunt all but Ophelia..