Imatges de pÓgina
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Ham. 4 Buzze, buzze
Pol. Upon mine honour
Ham. 5 Then come each Astor on his afs-

Pol. The best Actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, paitoral-comical, historical- pastoral, scene undividable, or Poem unlimited :: Sêneca cannot be too heavy, nor Ploutus to light... 6 For the law of writ, and the Liberty, these are the only men.

Ham. Oh, Jepbtba, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou!

Pol. What a treasure had he, my Lord ?

Ham. Why, one fair daughter, and no more,
The whicb be loved palling well.

Pel Still on my daughter.
Ham. Am I not i'ch' right, old Jeph ba?

Pol. If you call me Jephtha, my Lord, I have a daughter that I love passing well.

Ham. Nay, that follows not.
Pol. What follows then, my Lord?

Ham. Why, as by lot, God wot--and then you know, it came to pass, as most like it was : 7 the first

4 Buzze, buzze ] Meer idle cham diftinguishes boy's of tardy talk, the buzze of the vulgar. and of active faculies into quick

5 Then came, &c.] This seems wits and flow witi. to be a line of a baliad.

7 the first row of he rubrick.] 6 For the law of writ, and the It is pons chansons in the forttjolio Liberty, these are the only men.] edition. The old ballads fung All the modern editions have, the on bridges, and from thence law of wit, and the liberty; but called Pons chansons. Hamlet is both my old copies have, ihe law here repeating ends of old fongs. of w.it, I believe rightly. Writ,

Pope, for writing, comafition.

It is pons chansons in the quarwas not, in our authour's time, to too I know not whence the taken either for imu ination, or rubrick has been brought, yet it: acuteness, or both together, but for has not the appearance of an arunderflanding, for the faculty by bitrary addition. The tities of which we pprehend and judge. old ballads were never printed Those who wrote of the human red; but . perhaps rubriike may mind distinguished its primary stand for marginal explana'ion, powers into wit and will. Aj

row of the rubrick will shew you more. For, look, where 8 my abridgments come,

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Enter four or five Players. - Y'are welcome, masters, welcome all. I am glad to see thee well; welcome, good friends. Oh! old friend ! thy face is valanc'd, since I saw thee laft: com'st thou to beard me in Denmark? What! my young lady and mistrefs ? b'erlady, your ladyfhip is nearer heaven than when I saw you last, by the altitude of a chioppine. Pray God, your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, be not crack'd within the sing.-Masters, you are all welcome, we'll e'en to't a like friendly faulconers, fly at any thing we fee, we'll have a speech straight. Come, give us a taste of your quality; come, a passionate speech.

1 Play. What speech, my good I ord?

Ham. I heard thee fpeak me a speech oncé ; but it was never acted : or if it was, not above once ; for the Play, I remember, pleas'd not the million; 'twas 2 Caviare to the general; but it was as I receiv'd it, and others whose judgment in such matters 3 cried in the top of mine, an excellent Play; well digested in the scenes, 4 fet down with as much modesty as cun

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my abridgmen's ] He calls no reason for the correction. the pl yers afterwards, the brief 2 Caviare to the general ;) Cas chronic es of the time, but I think virre was a kind of foreign hę now means only those who pickle, to which the vulgar pawill shorten my tulk.

lates were, I suppose, not yet re9 be not crack'd within the conciled. ring] That is, crack'd too much 3 cried in the top of mine,] i, 6. for ufe. This is faid to a young whose judgment i had the highplayer, who acted the parts of eft opinion of

WARB. women,

I think it means only that 1 lite friendly falconers,] Hare were big ber than mine. mer, who has much illustrated 4 fet down with as much mothe allusions to falconry, reads, deity) Modesty, for fimplicity. Hike French falconers, but gives

WARBURTON.

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ning. I remember, one faid, there was no falt in the lines, to make the matter favoury ; nor no matter in the phrafe, s that might indite the author of affection; 6 but call'd it, an honest method, as wholesome as Sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One speech in it I chiefly lov'd! 'twas Æneas's tale to Dido; and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of Priam's ffaughter. If it live in your memory, begin at this line, let me fee, let me see-The rugged Pyrrhus, like th' Hyrcanian beaft,- It is not so; it begins with Pyrrhus. The rugged Fyrrhus, he, whose fable arms, Black as his purpofe, did the Night resemble When he lay couched in the ominous horse Hath now his dread and black complexion smear'd With heraldry more difmal; head to foot, Now is he total gules ; horridly trickt With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, Bak'd and impafted with the parching fires, That lend a tyrannous and dainned light To murders vile. Roasted in wrath and fire, And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore, With eyes like carbuncles, the hellith Pyrrhus Old grandfire Priam seeks. Pol

. 'Fore God, my Lord, well spoken, with good accent and good discretion.

1 Play. Anon he finds him, Striking, too short; at Greeks. His antique (word.

.. Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls, Repugnant to Command ; unequal match'd,

5 that migb, indite the author] falt in the lines, &c. but calPd it Indire, for convict.

WARB.

an honeft meth.de The authour 6 but all dit ar bonift metho.] probab y gave it. But I called it Hamlet is telling how much his an bonest method, &c. judgment differed from that of an honest method ] Honeft, for others. One faid, skee was no chalte,

WARBURTON.

Pyrrhus

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Pyrrbus at Priam drives, in rage strikes wides ,
But with the whif and wind of his fell sword,
Th' unnerved father falls.' Then senseless Ilium,
Seeming to feel this blow, with faming top
Stoops to his Bale; and with a hideous crash
Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear. For lo, his sword, nou's
Which was declining on the milky head
Of rev'rend Priam, leem'd i'ch' air to stick:
So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood;
And, like a neutral to his will and matter,
Did nothing
But as we often see, against fome storm,
A silence in the heav'ns, the rack stand still,
The bold winds speechless, and the orb below
As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder
Doth rend the region ; So after Pyrrhus' pause,
A roused vengeance sets him new a work,
And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
On Mars his armour, forg’d for proof eterne,
With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
Now falls on Priam.
Out, out, thou strumpet Fortune ! all you Gods,
In general fynod take away her power:
Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,
And bowl the round nave down the hill of heav'ng
As low as to the fiends.

Pol. This is too long.
Ham. It shall to th' barber's with your beard,
Þr’ythee, say on ; he's for a jigg, or a tale of bawdry,
or he sleeps.

Say on, come to Hecuba. 1 Play. But who, oh! who, had seen 7 the mobled Queen,

the mobled Queen,-] that no more is to be seen of them, Mo led or mabled, fignifies veiled than their eyes.

Travels, So Sandys, speaking of the Turk.

WARBURTON ish women, says, iheir head; and Mobled signifies, huddled, grossly faces are MABLED in fine linen, covered.

Ham,

Ham. The mobled Queen? Pol. That's good; mobled Queen, is good. 1 Play. Run bare-foot up and down, threatning the

flames With bisson rheum! a clout upon that head, Where late the Diadem stood, and for a robe About her lank and all-o'er-teemned loins, A blanket in th’alarm of fear' caught up; Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd, 'Gainst fortune's itate would treason have pronounc'd; But if the Gods themselves did see her then, When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs; The instant burst of clamour that she made, Unless things mortal move them not at all, Would have made milch the burning eyes of heav'n, And passion in the Gods.

Pol. Look, whe're he has not turn’d his colour, and has tears in's eyes. Pr’ythee, no more.

Ham. 'Tis well, I'll have thee speak out the rest of this foon. Good my Lord, will you see the Players well.bestow'd ? Do ye hear, let them be well us’d; for they are the abstract, and brief chronicles of the time. After your death, you were better have a bad Epitaph, than their ill report while you liv’d.

Pol. My Lord, I will use them according to their desert.

Han. Odd's bodikins, man, much better. Use every man after his defert, and who shall 'scape whipping? Use them after your own honour and dignity. The less they deserve, the more merit is in ty:

Take them in. Pol. Come, Sirs.

[Exit Polonius. Ham. Follow him, Friends: we'll hear a play tomorrow.

Doit thou har me, old friend, can you play the murder of Gonzaga? Play. Ay, my Lord.

Ham,

your boun

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