Imatges de pàgina
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So full of artless jealoufy is guilt,

It fpills itfelf, in fearing to be fpilt.

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Enter OPHELIA, distracted.

Oph. Where is the beauteous Majefty of Denmark?
Queen. How now, Ophelia !

Oph. "How should I your true love know from
"another one?

By his cockle hat and staff, and his fandal fhoon."
[Singing.
Queen. Alas, fweet Lady, what imports this fong?
Oph. Say you? nay, pray you, mark.

"He's dead and gone, Lady, he's dead and gone; "At his head a grafs-green turf, at his heels a ftone." Enter King.

Queen. Nay, but Ophelia

Oph. Pray you, mark.

"White his fhroud as the mountain fnow."

Queen. Alas, look here, my Lord.

Oph. "Larded all with fweet flowers: "Which bewept to the grave did go "With true-love fhowers."

King. How do you, pretty Lady?

Oph. Well, God yield you! they fay, the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table! (59)

(59) Well, God dild you!] i. e Heaven reward you. We meet with this expreflion a little otherwife writ in Macbeth;

-Herein I teach you

How you fhould bid God cyld us for our pains,
And thank us for your trouble.

King. Conceit upon her father.

Oph. Pray, let us have no words of this; but when they afk you what it means, fay you this:

"To-morrow is St Valentine's day, all in the mora "betime,

"And I a maid at your window, to be your Va"lentine.

"Then up he rofe, and don'd his cloaths, and dupt "the chamber door;

"Let in the maid, that out a maid never departed

"more."

King. Pretty Ophelia !

[on't.

Oph. Indeed, without an oath, I'll make an end

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By Gis, and by St Charity,

"Alack, and fy for fhame!

Young men will do't, if they come to't,
By cock, they are to blame.

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66 Quoth fhe, before you tumbled me,
"You promis'd me to wed:
"So would I ha' done, by yonder fun,
"And thou hadft not come to my bed."

King. How long has the been thus ? Oph. I hope all will be well. We must be patient; but I cannot chuse but weep, to think they fhould lay him i' th' cold ground; my brother shall know of it, and fo I thank you for your good coun

But, in Antony, we have the phrase in plain and genuine English:

Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more,

And the gods yield you for't!

So, Sir John Grey, in a letter, in Afhimole's Appendix to his account of the Garter, Number 46. The King of his graci bus Lordshipe, God yield him, hafe chofen me to be owne of his brethren of the Knights of the Gartier.

1

pray you;

fel. Come, my coach: good night, ladies; good night, fweet ladies; good Light, good night. [Exit. King. Follow her clofe, give her good watch, I [Exit Horatio. This is the poifon of deep grief; it springs All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude! When forrows come, they come not fingle fpies, But in battalions. First, her father flain;

Next your fon gone, and he most violent author Of his own juft remove; the people muddied, Thick and unwholefome in their thoughts and whispers,

For good Polonius' death; (we've done but greenly,
In private to inter him;) poor Ophelia,

Divided from herfelf, and her fair judgment,
(Without the which we're pictures, or mere beafts:)
Laft, and as much containing as all thefe,
Her brother is in fecret come from France:
Feeds on this wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With peftilent speeches of his father's death;
Wherein neceffity, of matter beggared,
Will nothing flick our perfons to arraign
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering piece, in many places
Gives me fuperfluous death!

【A noife within. Queen. Alack! what noife is this?

Enter a Meffenger.

King. Where are my Switzers? let them guard

What is the matter !

Mef. Save yourself, my Lord.

The ocean, over-peering of his lift,

[the door.

Eats not the flats with more impetuous hafte

Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,

O'er-bears your officers: the rabble call him Lord;

And as the world were now but to begin, Antiquity forgot, custom not known, The ratifiers and props of every Ward; (60) They cry, "Chufe we Laertes for our King." Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds; "Laertes fhall be King, Laertes King!"

Queen. How chearfully on the falfe trail they cry! Oh, this is counter, you falle Danith dogs.

[Noife within.

Enter LAERTES, with a Party at the Door.

King. The doors are broke.

Laer. Where is this King? Sirs! stand

without.

All. No, let's come in.

you

all

Laer. I pray you, give me leave.

All. We will, we will.

[Exeunt.

Laer. I thank you; keep the door.

O thou vile King, give me my father..

Queen. Calmly, good Laertes.

Laer. That drop of blood that's calm, proclaims. me bastard;

Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot Even here, between the chaite and unfmirched brow Of my true mother.

(60) The ratifiers and props of every word;] The whole te nour of the context is fuflicient to fhew, that this is a miftaken reading. What can antiquity and cuftom, being the props of words, have to do with the bufinefs in hand? or what idea. is conveyed by it? Certainly, the Poet

wrote;

The ratifiers and props of every ward. Themeflenger is complaining that the riotous head had overborne the King's officers; and then fubjoins, that antiquity and cuftom were forgot, which were the ratifiers and props of every ward, i. e. of every one of thofe fecurities that nature and law place about the perfon of a king. All this is rational and coufequential.. Mr Warburton.

King. What is the caufe, Laertes, That thy rebellion looks fo giant-like?

Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our perfon:
There's fuch divinity doth hedge a King,

That treafon can but peep to what it would,
Acts little of its will. Tell me, Laertes,
Why are you thus incenfed? Let him

go,

Gertrude.

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Queen. But not by him.

King. Let him demand his fill.

Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with: (61) To hell, allegiance! vows to the blackeft devil!

Confcience and grace, to the profoundest pit!
I dare damnation; to this point I stand,
That both the worlds I give to negligence,
Let come, what comes; only I'll be revenged
Moft thoroughly for my father.

King. Who fhall stay you?

Laer. My will, not all the world;

(61) To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackeft devil!] Laertes is a good character, but he is here in actual rebellion. Left, therefore, this character fhould feem to fanctify rebellion, instead of putting into his mouth a reasonable defence of his proceedings, fuch as the right the subject has of thaking off oppreffion, the ufurpation, and the tyranny of the King, &c. Shakespeare gives him nothing but abfurd and blafphemous fentiments, fuch as tend only to infpire the audience with horror at the action. This conduct is exceeding nice. Where, in his plays, a circumstance of rebellion is founded on hiftory, or the agents of it infamous in their characters, there was no danger in the representation; but, as here, where the circumftance is fictitious, and the agent honourable, he could not be too cautious; for the jealousy of the two reigns he wrote in, would not difpenfe with lefs exactnefs. Mr Warburton.

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