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I have a daughter; have, while she is mine ;
[He opens a letter, and reads.] To the celestial, and my fuul's it'o', the most beatified (29) Ophelia. -That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase : b.atified is a vile phrase ; but you shall hear-I bese to her ixtellent white bojom, thife. —
Queen. Came this from Hamlet to her? Pol. Good Madam, stay a while, I will be faithful. (29) Torbe celestial, and my soul's idol, the most beautified Ophelia.) I have ventur'd at an emendation here, against the authority of all the copies: but, I hope, upon examination it will appear probable and reasonable. The word beautified may carry two distinct ideas, either as applied to a woman made up of artificial beauties, (which our Poet afterwards calls,
The harlot's cheek beautied with plaftring art).or as applied to a person rich in native charms : As in the Two Gentlemen of Verona ;
And partly seeing you are beautified
With goodly shape. As Shakespeare has therefore chose to use it in the latter accepta. tion, to express natural comeliness; I cannot imagine, that, here, he would have excepted to the phrase, and call'd it a vile one. stronger obj.ction still, in my mind, lies against it. As celestial and foul's idol are the introductory characteristics of Ophelia, what a dread. ful anticlimax is it to descend to such an epithet as beautified ? On the other hand, beatified, as I have conjectur'd, raises the image : but Polonius might very well, as a Roman Catholick, call it a vile phrase, i. e. favouring of prophanation; since the epithet is peculiarly made an adjunct to the Virgin Mary's honour, and therefore ought not to be emp'oy'd in the praise of a meer mortal. Again, tho' beatified, perhaps, is no where else apply'd to an earthly beauty, yet the fame fapturous ideas are employ'd in terms purely fynonymous.
No Valentine indeed for sacred Sylvia. Iwo Gent. of Verona,
Love's Lab, Lef. Celesiial as thou art, 0, pardon, Love, this wrong;
That sings Heav'n's praise with such an earth'y tongue. Ibid. And Beaumont and Fletcher, I remember, in A Wife for a Montb, make a lover subscribe bis letter to his mistress, thus ; To the blef Eva::tbe.
Doubt tbou, th: fars are fire,
[Reading Doubl, that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar,
But never doubt, I love. Oh, dear Ophelia, I am ill at this numbers; I bave not art to reckon my groans ; but that I love thee beft, ob moft beft, believe it.
(this Machine is to him, Hamlet.
King. But how hath she receiv'd his love ?
Pol. I would fain prove so. But what might you think?
King. Do you think this ?
Po?. Hath there been such a time, I'd fain know that;
King. Not that I know.
[Pointing to his Head and Shoulder.
[ther, Pol. You know, sometimes he walks four hours toge. Here in the lobby.
Queen. So he does, indeed.
Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him ;
and I behind an arras then,
Enter Hamlet reading.
reading Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away. I'll board him presently. [Exe. King and Queen Oh, give me leave.-How does my good Lord Hamtet? Ham. Well, God o'
mercy. Pol. Do you know me, my
Ham. Ay, Sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man pick'd out of ten thousand.
Pul. That's very true, my Lord.
Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, Being a good kissing carrionHave you a daughter? Fol. I have, my Lord.. 5
Ham. Let her not walk i'th' fun; conception is a blessing, but not as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to't.
Ham. Words, words, words.
Ham. Slanders, Sir: for the satirical fiave fa;s here, that old men have grey beards; t'iat their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging thick amber, and plumtree gum: and that they have a plentiful lack of wit; together with moit weak hams. All which, Sir, tho' I most powerfuliy and potently believe, yet I hold it not honeity to have it thus fet down ; for yourself, Sir, shall be as old as I am, if, like a crab you could go backward.
Pol. Though this be madness, yet there's method in't: Will you
walk out of the air, my Lord ? Ham. Into my grave.
Pol. Indeed, that is out o'th' air:
Ham. You cannot, Sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal, except my life.
Pol. Fare you well, my Lord.
Enter Rosincrantz and Guildenstern.
[Gilder ftern? Ham. My excellent good friends! How dost thou Oh, Ro«crantz, good lads! how do ye both ?
Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth.
G.il. Happy, in that we are not over-happy; on fortune's cap, we are not the very button.
Ham. Nor the roles of her shoe?
Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favours?
G:il. Faith, in her privates we.
11.im. In the secret parts of fortune ? oh, moể true ; she is a krumpet. What news!
None, my Lord, but that the world's grown honest.
Tan. Then is dooms-day near; but your news is not true. Let me question more in particular : what have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune, that the fends you to prison hither?
Gail. Prison, my Lord !
Ham. A goodly one, in which there are many confines, wards, and dungeons; Denmark being one o'tk' wort,
krs. We think not fo, my Lord.
Ham. Why, then, 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it fo: to me, it is a prison.
Ro;. U hy, then your ambition makes it one : 'tis tco narrow for your mind.
A m. Ch God, I could be bounded in a nut-fhell, and count myself a King of infinite space; were it not, that I have bad dreams. G. 1!. Which dreams, indeed, are ambition ; for the