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SCENE VIII.

Manet Hamlet.

Ham. Ay, fo, God b'wi'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, (8) all his vifage wan'd:
Tears in his eyes, distraction 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 should weep for her? What would he do,
Had he the motive and (9) the cue for paffion,

That I have? He would drown the stage with tears,
And cleave (1) the general ear with horrid fpeech,
Make mad the guilty, and appall the free;
Confound the ignorant, and amaze, indeed,
The very faculty of ears and eyes.

Yet I,

A dull and muddy-mettled rafcal, peak,

Like John-a-dreams, (2) unpregnant of my caufe,
And can fay nothing. No, not for a King,
Upon whose property and most dear life

(8) All bis vifage WARM'D:] This might do, did not the old Quarto lead us to a more exact and pertinent reading, which is, Vifage WAN'D

i. e. turn'd pale, or wan. For fo the vifage appears when the mind is thus affectioned, and not warm'd or flushed.

----(6).

(1)

WARBURTON.

The cue for paffion,] The bint, the direction.

The general ear---] The ears of all mankind. So before, Caviare to the general, that is, to the multitude. (2) Unpregnant of my caufe,] Unpregnant, for having no due fenfe of. WARBURTON.

Rather, not quickened with a new defire of vengeance; not teeming with revenge.

A

(3) A damn'd 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-liver'd, 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!
Remorfelefs, treacherous, letcherous, (4) kindlefs vil-
lain !

Why, what an afs am I? this is moft brave,
That I, the fon of a dear father murder'd,
Prompted to my revenge by heav'n and hell,
Muft, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,
And fall a curfing like a very drab,

A Scullion. Fy upon't! foh!
(5) About, my brain! I've heard,
That guilty creatures, fitting at a Play,
Have by the very cunning of the Scene
Been ftruck fo to the foul, that prefently
They have proclaim'd 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 (6) tent him to the quick, (7) if he but blench,
I know my courfe. This Spirit, that I have feen,
May be the Devil; and the Devil hath power
Taffume a pleafing fhape; yea, and, perhaps,
Out of my weaknefs and my melancholy,
As he is very potent with fuch fpirits,
Abuses me to damn me. I'll have grounds

(3) A damn'd defeat was made.] Defeat, for destruction.

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Kindness

Unnatural.

WARBURTON.

(5) About, my brain!] Wits, to your work, Brain, go about

the present business.

(6) Tent bim-] Search his wounds. (7) If be but blench,] If he fhrink.

More

י

(8) More relative than this: The Play's the thing, Wherein I'll catch the Confcience of the King. Exit.

ACT III. SCENE I

The PALACE.

Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rofincrantz Guildenftern, and Lords..

A

KING.

ND can you by no drift of conference
Get from him why he puts on this confusion,..
Grating fo harfhly all his days of quiet,
With turbulent and dang'rous lunacy?

Rof. He does confefs, he feels himself distracted;
But from what cause he will by no means speak.
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. (9) Niggard of queftion, but of our demands

Moft free in his reply..

(8) More relative than this:] Relative, for convictive.

Queen.

WARBURTON.

Convictive is only the confequential fenfe, Relative is, nearly res lated, clafely connected.

(9) Niggard of question, but of our demands

Moft free in bis reply.] This is given as the defcription of the converfation of a man whom the speaker found not forward to be founded; and who kept aloof when they would bring him to confeffion: But fuch a defcription can never pass but at cross purposes ShakeSpeare certainly wrote it just the other way.

Moft

Queen. Did you affay him to any pastime?
Rof. Madam, it fo fell out, that certain Players
We* o'er-raught 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 befeech'd me to entreat your Majefties
To hear and fee the matter.

King. With all my heart, and it doth much consent.

me

To hear him so inclin'd.

Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,
And drive his purpose into thefe delights.
Rof. Well-fhall, my Lord.

King Sweet Gertrude leave us too;

For we have closely fent for Hamlet hither, That he, as 'twere by accident, may here (1) Affront Ophelia.

Her father, and myself, lawful Efpials,

Will fo beftow ourselves, that, feeing, unfeen,
We may of their encounter frankly judge;
And gather by him, as he is behaved,

I'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 wish,

That your good beauties be the happy cause

[Exeunt.

Of Hamlet's wildnefs! 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.

Moft free of question, but of our demands.
Niggard in bis reply.

That this is the true reading we need but turn back to the preceding fcene, for Hamlet's conduct, to be fatisfied.

WARBURTON.

O'er-raught on the way ;] Over raught is, over-reached, that

is, over-took.
(1) Affront Ophelia.] To affront is only to meet directly.

Pol.

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

ye,

We will bestow ourfelves-Read on this book,

That fhew of fuch an exercife may colour

Your loneliness.

We're oft to blame in this,

[To Oph.

(2) 'Tis too much prov'd, that with devotion's vifage, And pious action, we do fugar o'er

The devil himfelf.

King. Oh, 'tis too true.

How smart a lash that speech doth give my confcience!

The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastring art,
Is not (3) more ugly to the thing that helps it,
Than is my deed to my moft painted word.
Oh heavy burden!

[Afide.

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

SCENE IL

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. (4) To be, or not to be? that is the quef

tion.

Whether

(2) 'Tis too much prov'd,] It is found by too frequent expe rience.

(3) more ugly to the thing that helps it,] That is compared with the thing that helps it.

(4) "To be, or not to be ] Of this celebrated foliloquy, which bursting from a man diftracted with contrariety of defires, and overwhelmed with the magnitude of his own purposes, is connected rather in the speaker's mind, than on his tongue, I shall endeavour to difcover the train, and to fhew how one fentiment produces another.

Hamlet, knowing himfelf injured in the moft enormous and atrocious degree, and feeing no means of redrefs, but fuch as muft expofe him to the extremity of hazard, meditates on his fituation in this manner: Before I can form any rational fcheme of action under this preffure of diftrefs, it is neceffary to decide, whether, after our prefent flate, we are to be or not to be. That is the

question,

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