Or in th' incestuous pleafure of his bed;
At gaming, fwearing, or about fome aft
That has no relish of falvation in't;,
Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heav'n;
And that his foul may be as damn'd and black
As hell, whereto it goes. My mother ftays;
This phyfick but prolongs thy lickly days.

The King rifes and comes forward.

[Exit.

King. My words fly up, my thoughts remain below; Words, without thoughts, never to heaven go. [Exit.

SCENE changes to the Queen's Apartment.

H

Enter Queen and Polonius.

Pol. Ewill come ftraight; look, you lay home to him: Tell him, his pranks have been too broad to bear with;

And that your Grace hath fcreen'd, and flood between Much heat and him.

I'll filence me e'en here;

Pray you be round with him.

Ham, [within.] Mother, Mother, Mother. Queen. I'll warrant you, fear me not. Withdraw, I hear him coming.

[Polonius hides himself behind the Arras..

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Now, mother, what's the matter?
Queen. Hamlet, thou haft thy father much offended.
Ham. Mother, you have my father much offended.
Queen. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.
Ham. Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.
Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet ?

Ham. What's the matter now?

that throwing my eye cafually over the fourth folio edition, printed in 1685, I found my correction there anticipated. I think myfelf obliged to repeat this confeffion, that I may not be accufed of pla giarism, for an emendation which I had made before ever I faw a fingle page of that book,

Queen.

Queen. Have you forgot me?

Ham. No, by the rood, not fo;

You are the Queen, your husband's brother's wife,
But, 'would you were not fo!-You are my mother.
Queen. Nay, then I'll fet thofe to you that can fpeak.
Ham. Come, come, and fit you down; you shall not
You go not, 'till I fet you up a glafs [budge:

Where you may fee the inmoft part of you.

Queen. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me? Help, ho.

Pol. What ho, help.

[Behind the Arras.

Ham. How now, a rat? dead for a ducat, dead.

Pol. Oh, I am slain.

[Hamlet kills Polonius.

Queen. Oh me, what haft thou done?

Ham. Nay, I know not: is it the King?

Queen. Oh, what a rafh and bloody deed is this? Ham. A bloody deed; almost as bad, good mother, As kill a King, and marry with his brother. Queen. As kill a King?

Ham. Ay, lady, 'twas my word.

Thou wretched, rafh, intruding fool, farewel,

[To Polonius. I took thee for thy betters; take thy fortune; Thou find it, to be too bufy, is fome danger. Leave wringing of your hands: peace, fit you down, And let me wring your heart, for fo I fhall,

If it be made of penetrable stuff:

If damned cuftom hath not braz'd it fo,

That it is proof and bulwark against sense.

[tongue

Queen. What have I done, that thou dar'ft wag thy

In noise fo rude against me?

Ham. Such an act,

That blurs the grace and blush of Modefty;
Calls virtue hypocrite; takes off the rofe
From the fair forehead of an innocent love,
And fets a blister there; makes marriage-vows
As falfe as dicers' oaths. Oh, fuch a deed,
As from the body of Contraction plucks
The very foul, and fweet Religion makes

A rhapsody of words. Heav'n's face doth glow;
Yea, this folidity and compound mafs,
With triftful vifage, as against the doom,
Is thought-fick at the act.

Queen. Ay me! what act,

That roars fo loud, and thunders in the index?
Ham. Look here upon this picture, and on this,
The counterfeit prefentment of two brothers:
See what a grace was feated on this brow;
Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;
An eye, like Mars, to threaten or command;
A ftation, like the herald Mercury (49)
New-lighted on a heaven-kiffing hill;
A combination, and a form indeed,
Where every God did feem to fet his feal,
To give the world affurance of a man.

This was your husband,-Look you now, what follows;
Here is your husband, like a mildew'd ear,

Blafting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?

(49) A ftation, like the herald Mercury.] The Poet employs this word in a sense different from what it is generally us'd to fignify: for it means here an attitude, a filent pofiure, fixt demeanor of perfon, in oppofition to an active behaviour. So, our Poet, before, defcrib. ing Octavia;

Cleo. What majefty is in her gate? Remember,
If e'er thou look dft on Majefty?

Me. She creeps:

Her motion and her ftation are as one.

Anto. and Cleop.

And I ought to obferve, (which feems no bad proof of our Author's learning and knowledge) that among the Latines, the word ftatio, in its first and natural fignification, imply'd ftantis actio: i. e. a pofture, or attitude. This Monf. FRESNOY, in his Art of Painting, has chose to exprefs by pofitura:

Quærendafque inter pofituras, luminis, umbræ,

Aique futurorum jàm præfentire colorum

Par erit barmoniam

Which our DRYDEN has thus tranflated; "'Tis the business of a "painter, in his choice of attitudes, to forefee the effect and har "mony of the lights and fhadows, with the colours which are to "enter into the whole." And again, afterwards;

Mu'oramque filens Pofitura imitabitur a&tus,

Which I think may be thus render'd;

Still let the filent attitude betray

What the mute figure fhould in gefture fay

Could

Could
you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
And batten on this moor? ha! have you eyes?
You cannot call it Love; for, at your age,

The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,
And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment
Would step from this to this? Sense, fure, you have, (50)
Elfe could you not have motion: but, fure, that fenfe
Is apoplex'd: for madnefs would not err;

Nor fense to ecstacy was ne'er fo thrall'd,
But it referv'd fome quantity of choice

To ferve in fuch a diff rence.-What devil was't,
That thus had cozen'd you at hoodman blind
Eyes without feeling, feeling without fight,
Ears without hands or eyes, fmelling fans all,
Or but a fickly part of one true fenfe
Could not fo mope.

O fhame! where is thy blush? rebellious hell,
If thou canst mutiny in a matron's bones,

To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,

And melt in her own fire. Proclaim no fhame, (51)
When the compulfive ardour gives the charge;
Since frost itself as actively doth burn
And Reason panders Will.

Queen.

(50)-Senfe, Sure, you have, &c.] Mr. Pope has left out the quantity of about eight verfes here, which I have taken care to replace. They are not, indeed, to be found in the two elder folio's, but they carry the ftile, expreffion, and caft of thought, peculiar to our Author; and that they were not an interpolation from another hand needs no better proof, than that they are in all the oldest quarto's. The first motive of their being left out, I am perfuaded, was to fhorten Hamlet's speech, and confult the eafe of the actor: and the reafon, why they find no place in the folio impreffions, is, that they were printed from the playboufe caftrated copies. But, furely, this can be no authority for a modern editor to confpire in mutilating his author: fuch omissions, rather, must betray a want of diligence, in collating; or a want of justice, in the voluntary stifling.

(51): -Proclaim no fhame,

When the compulfive ardour gives the charge;

Since froft itself as actively does burn,

And reafon pardons will.] This is, indeed, the reading of fome of the elder copies; and Mr. Pope has a ftrange fatality, whenever there is a various reading, of efpoufing the wrong one.

The whole

Queen. O Hamlet, fpeak no more.

Thou turn't mine eyes into my very foul,
And there I fee fuch black and grained fpots,
As will not leave their tinct.

Ham. Nay, but to live

In the rank fweat of an incestuous bed,
Stew'd in corruption, honying and making love
Over the nafty fty;

Queen. O fpeak no more;

Thefe words like daggers enter in mine ears.
No more, fweet Hamlet.

Ham. A murderer, and a villain !

A flave, that is not twentieth part the tythe
Of your precedent Lord. A Vice of Kings-(52)
A cutpurfe of the Empire and the Rule,

That from a fhelf the precious diadem stole
And put it in his pocket.

Queen. No more.

Enter Ghoft.

Ham. A King of fhreds and patches.

Save me and hover o'er me with your wings,

[Starting up. You heav'nly guards! what would your gracious figure? Queen. Alas, he's mad

Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide,

whole tenour of the context demands the word degraded by that judicious editor;

And reafon panders will.

This is the reffexion which Hamlet is making, "Let us not call it "fhame, when heat of blood compels young people to indulge their "appetites; fince froft too can burn, and age, at that feafon when ❝ judgment should predominate, yet feels the ftings of inclination, and fuffers reafon to be the bawd to appetite."

(52) A Vice of Kings ] This does not mean a very vicious king, as, on the other hand, in King Henry V. this Grace of Kings, means, this gracious King, this honour to royalty. But here, I take it, a perfon, and not a quality, is to be underfood. By a Vice, (as I have explain'd the word in feveral preceding notes) is meant that buffoon's character, which us'd to play the fool in old plays; fo that Hamlet is here defign'd to call his uncle, a ridiculous ape of majefty; but the mimickry of a king.

That,