Wringing it thus) you'll tender me a fool.

Oph. My Lord, he hath importun'd me with love, In honourable fashion.

Pol. Ay, fashion you may call it go to, go to.
Oph. And hath giv'n count'nance to his fpeech, my
With almost all the holy vows of heav'n. [Lord,
Pol. Ay, fpringes to catch woodcocks. I do know,
When the blood burns, how prodigal the foul
Lends the tongue vows. Thefe blazes, oh my daughter,
Giving more light than heat, extinct in both,
Ev'n in their promife as it is a making,
You must not take for fire. From this time,
Be fomewhat scanter of your maiden prefence,
Set your intreatments at a higher rate,

Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,
Believe fo much in him, that he is young;
And with a larger tether may he walk,
Than may be giv'n you. In few, Ophelia,

Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers, (14)

(14) Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers z

Brea bing like fanctified and pious bonds,

The better to beguile.]

Not

To the fame purpose our Author, fpeaking of vows, expreffes mfelf in his poem, called the Lover's Complaint.

Saw, how deceits were guilded in his smiling;

Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling :

But to the paffage in queftion: tho' all the editors have swallow'd it implicitly, it is certainly corrupt; and I have been furpriz'd, how men of genius and learning could let it pafs without fome fufpicion. What Ideas can we form to ourselves of a breathing bond, or of its being fanctified and pious? The only tolerable way of reconciling it to a meaning without a change, is to fuppofe that the Poet intends, by the word bonds, verbal obligations, proteftations: and then, indeed, thefe bonds may, in fome fenfe, be faid to have breath. But this is to make him guilty of over-straining the word and allufion; and it will hardly bear that interpretation, at leaft not without much obIfcurity. As he, just before, is calling amorous vows brokers, and im plorers of unholy fuits a I think, a continuation of the plain and natural fenfe directs to an eafy emendation, which makes the whole thought of a piece, and gives it a turn not unworthy of our Poet. Breathing, like fanctified and pious bawds, The better to beguile.

F 2

Eroker,

Not of that die which their investments fhew,
But mere implorers of unholy fuits,
Breathing like fanctified and pious bawds,
The better to beguile. This is for all :
I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,
Have you Yo flander any moment leifure,
As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet,
Look to't, I charge you, come your way.
Oph. I fhall obey, my Lord.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Platform before the Palace.

Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus.

Ham. Hor. It is a nipping and an eager air. THE

HE air bites fhrewdly; it is very cold.

Ham. What hour now?

Hor. I think it lacks of twelve.

Mar. No, it is ftruck.

Hor. I heard it not: it then draws near the season,

Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.

[Noife of warlike mufick within.

What does this mean, my Lord ?

[rouse. Ham. The King doth wake to-night, and takes his Keeps waffel, and the fwagg'ring up-fpring reels; And as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge.

Hor. Is it a custom?

Broker, 'tis to be observ'd, our Author perpetually uses as the more modeft fynonymous term for bawd. Befides, what ftrengthens my correction, and makes this emendation the more neceffary and probable, is, the words with which the Poet winds up his thought, the better to beguile. It is the fly artifice and cuftom of bawds to put on an air and form of fanctity, to betray the virtues of young ladies; by drawing them first into a kind opinion of them, from their exteriour and diffembled goodness. And bawds in their office of treachery are likewife properly brokers; and the implorers and prompters of unboly (that is, unchafte) fuits: and fo a chain of the fame metaphors is continued to the end..

I made this emendation when I publish'd my SHAKESPEARE Re ftar'd, and Mr. Pope has thought fit to embrace it in his laft edition.

Ham.

Ham. Ay, marry, is't:

But, to my mind, though I am native here,
And to the manner born, it is a custom

More honour'd in the breach, than the observance.
This heavy-headed revel, eaft and weft, (15)
Makes us traduc'd, and tax'd of other nations;
They clepe us drunkards, and with fwinish phrafe
Soil our addition; and, indeed, it takes
From our atchievements, though perform'd at height,
The pith and marrow of our attribute.

So oft it chances in particular men,

That for fome vicious mole of nature in them,
As, in their birth, (wherein they are not guilty,
Since nature cannot chufe his origin)

By the o'ergrowth of fome complexion,

Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reafon ;
Or by fome habit, that too much o'er leavens
The form of plaufive manners; that these men
Carrying, I fay, the stamp of one defect,
(Being nature's livery, or fortune's fear)
Their virtues elfe, be they as pure as grace,
As infinite as man may undergo,

Shall in the general cenfure take corruption
From that particular fault.

The dram of Base (16)
Doth all the noble fubftance of worth out,
To his own scandal.

Enter

(15) This heavy-beaded revel, eaft and weft.] This whole fpeech of Hamlet, to the entrance of the ghoft, I fet right in my SHAKESPEARE Reftor'd, fo fhall not trouble the readers again with a repetition of thofe corrections, or juftification of them. Mr. Pope admits, I have given the whole a glimmering of sense, but it is purely conje&ural, and founded on no authority of copies. But is this any objection against conjecture in Shakespeare's cafe, where no original manuscript is fubfifting, and the printed copies have fucceffively blunder'd after one another? And is not even a glimmering of fenfe, fo it be not arbitrarily impos'd, preferable to flat and glaring nonfenfe? If not, there is a total end at least to this branch of criticism; and nonsense may plead title and prefcription from time, because there is no direct au thority for difpoffeffing it.

(16)
The dram of eale
Dotb all the noble subftance of a doubt

To bis ozun fcandal.] Mr. Pope who has degraded this whole speech,

F 3

has

Enter Ghoft.

Hor. Look, my Lord, it comes!

Ham. Angels and minifters of grace defend us! Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heav'n, or blafts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable,

Thou com'ft in fuch a questionable shape, (17)

has entirely left out this concluding fentence of it. It looks, indeed, to be defperate, and for that reafon, I conceive, he chose to drop it. I do not remember a paffage, throughout all our Poet's works, more intricate and deprav'd in the text, of lefs meaning to outward appearance, or more likely to baffle the attempts of criticifm in its aid. It is certain, there is neither fenfe, nor grammar, as it now ftands: yet, with a flight alteration, I'll endeavour to cure those defects, and give a fentiment too, that shall make the Poet's thought close nobly. What can a dram of eafe mean? Or, what can it have to do with the context, fuppofing it were the allow'd expreffion here? Or, in a word, what agreement in fenfe is there betwixt a dram of eafe and the fubftance of a doubt ? It is a defperate corruption, and the nearest way to hope for a cure of it, is, to confider narrowly what the Poet must be fuppofed to have intended here. The whole tenour of this fpeech is, that let men have never fo many, or fo eminent, virtues, if they have one defect which accompanies them, that fingle blemish fhall throw a ftain upon their whole character: and not only fo, (if I understand right) but shall deface the very effence of all their goodnefs, to its own fcandal: fo that their virtues themselves will become their reproach. This is not only a continuation of his fentiment, but carries it up with a fine and proper climax. I have ventur'd to conjecture, that the Author might write;

-The dram of bafe

Doth all the noble fubftance of worth out
To his own fcandal.

The dram of bafe, i. e. the leaft alloy of bafenefs or vice. It is very frequent with our Poet to use the adjective of quality instead of the fubftantive fignifying the thing. Befides, I have observed, that elsewhere, fpeaking of worth, he delights to confider it as a quality that adds weight to a perfon, and connects the word with that idea. Let ev'ry word weigh heavy of her worth,

That he does weigh too light. All's Well that ends Well.
From whose so many weights of baseness cannot

A dram of worth be drawn.

Cymbeline.

(17) Thou com'ft in such a questionable shape.] By questionable we now conftantly understand difputable, doubtful; but our Author uses it in a fenfe quite oppofite, not disputable, but to be convers'd with, inviting question: as in Macbeth.

Live you, or are you aught that man may question?

That

That I will speak to thee. I'll call thee Hamlet,
King, Father, Royal Dane: oh! answer me;
Let me not burst in ignorance: but tell,
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearfed in death,
Have burst their cearments? why the fepulchre,
Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd,
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,
To caft thee up again? What may this mean?
That thou, dead coarfe, again, in compleat fteel,
Revifit'ft thus the glimpfes of the moon,
Making night hideous, and us fools of nature
So horribly to fhake our difpofition

With thoughts beyond the reaches of our fouls?
Say, why is this? wherefore? what fhould we do?

[Ghoft beckons Hamlet.

Hor. It beckons you to go away with it,
As if it fome impartment did defire
To you alone.

Mar. Look, with what courteous action
It waves you to a more removed ground:

But do not go with it.

Hor. No, by no means.

[Holding Hamlet.

Ham. It will not speak; then I will follow it.

Hor. Do not, my Lord.

Ham. Why, what should be the fear?

I do not fet my life at a pin's fee;

And, for my foul, what can it do to that,

Being a thing immortal as itself?

It waves me forth again.I'll follow it.

Hor. What if it tempt you tow'rd the flood, my Lord? Or to the dreadful fummit of the cliff,

That beetles o'er his base into the fea;

And there affume fome other horrible form,

Which might deprive your fov'reignty of reason,
And draw you into madness? think of it.
The very place puts toys of defperation,
Without more motive, into ev'ry brain,
That looks fo many fathoms to the fea;
And hears it roar beneath.

Ham. It waves me ftill: go on, I'll follow thee

F 4

Mar.