Than is my deed to my moft painted word. Oh heavy burden! Pol. I hear him coming; let's withdraw, my Lord. [Exeunt all but Ophelia. Ham. To be, or not to be? that is the question.--. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to fuffer The flings and arrows of outrageous fortune; 4 To be, or not to be?] Of this celebrated foliloquy, which burfting from a man distracted with contrariety of defires, and overwhelmed with the magni. tude of his own purposes, is connected rather in the fpeaker's mind, than on his tongue, I fhall endeavour to difcover the train, and to fhew how one fentiment produces another. ation Hamlet, knowing himself injured in the most enormous and atrocious degree, and feeing no means of redrefs, but fuch as muft expose him to the extremity of hazard, meditates on his fitun this manner: Before I can form any ratio al fchem of att on under this prejure of dif tres, it is neceffary to decide, whether, after our prefentate, we are to be or not to be. That is the q eftion, which, as it fhall be aufwered, will determine, whether 'tis nobler, and more suitable to the dignity of reafon, to juffer the outrages of fortune patiently, or to take arns against them, and by oppofing end them, though perhaps with the lofs of life. If to die, were to sleep, no more, and by a fleep to end the miferies of our nature, fuch a fleep were devoutly to be wished; but if to fleep in death, be to dream, to retain our powers of fenfibility, we must pause to confider, in that fleep of death what dreams may come. This confideration makes calamity fo long endured; for who would bear the vexations of life which might be ended by a bare bodkin, but that he is afraid of fomething in unknown futurity? This fear it is that gives efficacy to confcience, which, by turning the mind upon this regard, chills the ardour of refolution, checks the vigour of enterprise, and makes the current of defire stagnate in mactivity. We may fuppofe that he would have applied thefe general obfervations to his own case, but that he difcovered Ophelia. Or s Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks Devoutly to be wish'd. To dieto sleep To fleep? perchance, to dream. Ay, there's the rub; For in that fleep of Death what dreams may come, When we have fhuffled off this mortal coil, 6 Must give us paufe. There's the respect, For who would bear the whips and fcorns of time, 5 Or to take arms against A SEA of troubles,] Without queftion Shakrfear wrote, -ageinft ASSAIL of troubles. 7. e. affault. Mr. Pope propofed fiege. I know not why there fhould be fo much folicitude about this metaphor. Shakespeare breaks his mete phors often, and in this deful tory fpeech there was lefs need of preferving them. 6 -mortal coil,] . e. turmoil, buftie. WARB. 7--the whips and Scorns OF TIME,] The evils here complained of are not the product of time or duration fimply, but of a corrupted age or manners. We may be fure, then, that ShakeJpear wrote, the whips and forns OF The I doubt whether the corruption of this paffage is not more than the editor has fufpected. Whips and Scorns have no great connection with one another, or with time; whips and scorns are evils of very different magnitude, and though at all times fcorn may be endured, yet the times that put men ordinarily in danger of whis, are very rare. FalStaff has faid, that the courtiers would whip him with their quick wits; but I know not that whip can be used for a fcoff or infult, unless its meaning be fixed by the whole expreffion. I am afraid left I fhould venture too far in correcting this paffage. If whips be retained, we may read, For who would bear the whips and fcorns of tyrants. But I think that quip, a fneer, a farcafm, a contemptuous jeft, is the proper word, as fuiting very exactly with corn. What then muft The pang of defpis'd love, the law's delay, But that the dread of fomething after death, And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Is ficklied o'er with the pale caft of thought; Oph. Good my Lord, How does your Honour for this many a day? Oph. My Lord, I have remembrances of yours, must be done with time, it suits no better with the new reading than with the old, and tyrant is an image too bulky and ferious. I read, but not confidently, For who would bear the quips and fcorns of title. It may be remarked, that Hamlet, in his enumeration of miferies, forgets, whether properly or not, that he is a prince, and mentions many evils to which inferior ftations only are exposed. VOL, VIII. 8 To groan and fweat-] All the old copies have, to grunt and fweat. It is undoubtedly the true reading, but can scarcely be born by modern ears. 9-Nymph, in thy orifons, &c.] This is a touch of nature. Hamlet, at the fight of Ophelia, does not immediately recollect, that he is to perfonate madness, but makes her an addrefs grave and folemn, fuch as the foregoing meditation excited in his thoughts. That I have longed long to re-deliver. Ham. No, I never gave you ought. Oph. My honour'd Lord, you know right well, you did; And with them words of fo fweet breath compos'd, Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind. Ham. Ha, ha! are you Oph. My Lord, Ham. Are you fair? honeft? Oph. What means your Lordship? Ham. That if you be honest and fair, you should admit no difcourfe to your beauty. Oph. Could beauty, my Lord, have better commerce than with honesty? Ham. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will fooner transform honefty from what it is, to a bawd; than the force of honesty can tranflate beauty into its likeness. This was fometime a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once. Oph. Indeed, my Lord, you made me believe fo. Ham. You fhould not have believed me. For virtue cannot fo inoculate our old ftock, but we shall relifh of it. I lov'd you not. Oph. I was the more deceiv'd. Ham. Get thee to a nunnery. Why shouldst thou be a breeder of finners? I am myself indifferent ho 1 That if y u be honeft and fair, you should admit no difcourfe to your beauty.] This is the reading of all the modern editions, and is copied from the quarto. The folio reads, your honefty should admit no difcourfe to your beauty. The true reading feems to be this, If you be honest and fair, you should admit your honesty to no difcourfe with your beauty. This is the fenfe evidently required by the process of the converfation. nest; neft; but yet I could accufe me of fuch things, that it were better, my mother had not borne me. I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them fhape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows, as I, do crawl ing between heav'n and earth? We are arrant knaves, believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your father? Oph. At home my Lord. Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house. Farewel, Oph. Oh help him, you sweet heav'ns ! Ham. If thou doft marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry. Be thou as chafte as ice, as pure as fnow, thou shalt not efcape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery, farewel; or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wife men know well enough, what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go, and quickly too. Farewel. Opb. Heav'nly powers reftore him! Ham. I have heard of your painting too, well enough. God has given you one face, and you make yourfelves another. You jig, you amble, and you |