Ham. Methinks, it is like an Ouzle. (44)

Pol. It is black like an Ouzle.

Ham. Or, like a Whale?

Pol. Very like a Whale.

Ham. Then will I come to my mother by and bythey fool me to the top of my bent.I will come by and by.

Pol. I will fay fo.

Ham. By and by is eafily faid. Leave me, friends.

[Exeunt.

'Tis now the very witching time of night,
When church-yards yawn, and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood,
And do fuch bitter business as the day

Would quake to look on. Soft, now to my mother—
O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever
The Soul of Nero enter this firm bosom;

Let me be cruel, not unnatural;

I will speak daggers to her, but ufe none.

(44) Methinks, it is like an ouzle.

Pol. It is black like an ouzle.] The old quarto and folio give us this paffage thus;

Methinks, it is like a weezel,

Pol. It is black like a weezel.

But a reezel, as Mr. Pope has observ'd, is not black. Some other editions read the last line thus;

Pol. It is back'd like a weezel.

This only avoids the abfurdity of giving a falfe colour to the weezel: but ouzle is certainly the true reading, and a word which our Author has used in other places;

The oufel-cock, to black of hue,

With orange-tawny bill, &c.

Midfummer-Night's Dream. Shal. And how doth my e ufin, your bedfellow ? and your faieft daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen?

Sil. Alas, a black ouzel, coufin Shallow. 2 Henry IV. But there is a propriety in the word being used in the paffage before us, which determines it to be the true reading; the reafon of which,. I prefume, did not occur to Mr. Pope. 'Tis obvious, that Ilamet, under the umbrage of fuppos'd madnefs, is playing on Polonius; and a par icular compliance is fhewn in the old man, (who thinks Hamlet really mad, and, perhaps, is afraid of him) to confels, that the fame cloud is like a beast, a bird, and a fish: viz. a camel, an ouzel, and a whale. Nor is there a little humour in the difproportion of the three things, which the cloud is fuppos'd to refemble.

My

My tongue and foul in this be hypocrites;
How in my words foever she be shent,
To give them feals never my soul confent!

[Exit.

Enter King, Rofincrantz, and Guildenftern. King. I like him not, nor ftands it safe with us To let his madnefs range. Therefore, prepare you ▲ your Commiffion will forthwith dispatch,

I

And he to England fhall along with you.

The terms of our estate may not endure (45)
Hazard fo near us, as doth hourly grow.
Out of his Lunes.

Guild. We will provide ourfelves;
Most holy and religious fear it is,

To keep thofe many, many, bodies safe,
That live and feed upon your Majefty.

Rof. The fingle and peculiar life is bound,
With all the ftrength and armour of the mind,
To keep itself from noyance; but much more,
That fpirit, on whofe weal depends and rests.
The lives of many. The ceafe of Majesty
Dies not alone, but, like a gulf, doth draw
What's near it with it. It's a maffy wheel

(45) The terms of our eftate may not endure

Hazard. fo near us, as doth bourly grow
Out of his lunacies.

Guil. We will provide ourselves.

The old quarto's read,Out of his brows. This was from the ignorance of the firft editors; as is this unneceffary Alexandrine, which we owe to the players. The Poet, I am perfuaded, wrote, Las doth beurly grow

Out of bis lunes.

i e. his madness, frenzy. So our Poet, before, in his Winter's Tale.. Thefe dang rous, unfafe lunes i'th' King!befhrew 'em,

He must be told of it, &c.

The reader, if he pleases, may turn to my tenth remark on that play. Perhaps, too, in the Merry Wives of Windsor, where all the editions read;

Why, woman, your husband is in his old lines again.

We ought to correct;

-in his old lunes again..

ie, in his old fits of madnefs, fienzy,

Fixt on the fummit of the highest mount,
To whofe huge fpokes ten thousand leffer things
Are mortiz'd and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
Each small annexment, petty confequence,
Attends the boist'rous ruin. Ne'er alone
Did the King figh; but with a general groan.

King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage; For we will fetters put upon this fear,

Which now goes too free-footed.

Bath. We will hafte us.

Enter Polonius.

[Exeunt Gentlemen.

Pol. My Lord, he's going to his mother's closet ; Behind the arras I'll convey myfelf

To hear the process. I'll warrant, she'll tax him home, And, as you faid, and wifely was it faid,

'Tis meet, that fome more audience than a mother (Since nature makes them partial,) fhould o'er-hear The fpeech, of vantage. Fare you well, my Liege; I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,

And tell you what I know.

King. Thanks, dear my Lord.

Oh! my offence is rank, it fmells to heav'n,
It hath the primal, eldest, curse upon't; (46)
That of a brother's murder. Pray I cannot,
Though inclination be as sharp as will; (47)

[Exit.

My

(46) It bath the primal, eldeft curfe upon't ; A brother's murtber. -Pray I cannot,] The laft verfe, 'tis evident, halts in the measure; and, if I don't mistake, is a little lame in the fenfe too. Was a brother's murther the eldeft curfe? Surely, it was rather the crime, that was the cause of this eldest curfe. We have no affiftance, however, either to the fenfe or numbers from any of the copies. All the editions concur in the deficiency of a foot: but if we can both cure the measure, and help the meaning, without a preju dice to the Author, I think, the concurrence of the printed copies fhould not be fufficient to forbid a conjecture. I have ventur'd at two fupplemental fyllables, as innocent in themselves as necessary to the purposes for which they are introduc'd:

That of a brother's murther,

(47) Tho' inclination be.] This line has lain under the fufpicion of many nice obfervers; and an ingenious gentleman ftarted, at a heat, this very probable emendation :

Tho

My ftronger guilt defeats my ftrong intent:
And, like a man to double bufinefs bound,
I ftand in paufe where I fhall firft begin,
And both neglect. What if this curfed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood?
Is there not rain enough in the sweet, heav'ns
To wash it white as fnow? whereto ferves Mercy,
But to confront the visage of offence ?

And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force,
To be fore-ftalled ere we come to fall,

Or pardon'd being down? then I'll look up;
My fault is paft.

-But oh, what form of prayer Can ferve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder !→ That cannot be, fince i am ftill poffeit

Of thofe effects for which I did the murder,
My Crown, mine own Ambition, and my Queen.
May one be pardon'd, and retain th' offence?
In the corrupted currents of this world,
Offence's gilded hand may fhove by justice;
And oft 'tis feen, the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above:

Tho' inclination be as fbarp as 'twill. The variation from the traces of the letter is very minute, a t, with an apoßrophe before it, only being added; which might very easily have flipt out, under the printer's hands: fo that the change will not be difputed, fuppofing there be a neceflity for it: which, however, is submitted to judgment. "Tis certain, the line, as it stands in all the editions, has fo ftrongly the air of a flat tautology, that it may deserve a fhort comment; and to have the difference betwixt inclination and will afcertain'd. The word inclination, in its ufe with us, (as my friend Mr. Warburton defines it to me) is taken in these three acceptations. First, In its exact philofophical fenfe, it fignifies, the drawing or inclining the will to determine ifelf ane certain way: according to this fignification, the line is nonfenfe, and is the fame as to affirm, that the part is as big as the whole. In the next place, inclination fignifies the quill; and then it is the moft abfurd tautology. But, laftly, it fignifies a difpofition to do a thing, already determin'd of, with complacency and pleaJure. And if this is, as it feems to be, the fenfe of the word here; then the fentiment will be very clear and proper.. For will, fignifying barely the determination of the mind to do a thing, the fenfe will be this Tho' the pleasure I take in this act, be as strong as the "determination of my mind to perform it; yet my stronger guilt de"feats my ftrong intent, &c."

There,

There, is no fhuffling; there, the action lies
In his true nature, and we ourselves compell'd,
Ev'n to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence. What then? what rests?
Try, what repentance can: What can it not?
Yet what can it, when one cannot repent?
Oh wretched state! oh bofom, black as death!
Ch limed foul, that, ftruggling to be free,
Art more engag'd! help, angels! make affay!
Bow, ftubborn knees; and, heart, with ftrings of steel,
Pe foft as finews of the new-born babe!

All may be well.

[The King retires and kneels.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying,
And now I'll do't--and fo he goes to heav'n.-
And fo am I reveng'd? that would be scann'd;
A villain kills my father, and for that

I, his fole fon, do this fame villain fend

To heav'n-C, this is hire and falary, not revenge.
He took my father grofly, full of bread,

With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
And how his audit ftands, who knows, fave heav'n?
But in our circumftance and course of thought,
'I is heavy with him. Am I then reveng'd,
To take him in the purging of his foul,
When he is fit and season'd for his paffage?
Up, fword, and know thou a more horrid bent; (48)
When he is drunk, asleep, or in his rage,

Or

(48) Up, fwerd, and know thou a more, horrid time.] This is a fo phifticated reading, warranted by none of the copies of any authority. Mr. Pope fays, I read conjecturally;

a more borrid bent.

I do fo; and why? the two oldeft quarto's, as well as the two elder folio's, lead ;- a more horrid hent. But as there is no fuch English fubftantive, it feems very natural to conclude, that, with the change of a fing e letter, our Author's genuine word was, bent, i. e. drift, fcope, in lination, purpose, &c. I have prov'd his frequent ufe of this word, in my SHAKESPEARE Retor'd; fo fhall fpare the trou ble of making the quotations over again here. I took notice there,

that